So basically every thing is packed. The little nitty gritty shitty stuff is left to pack, and I guess most of that is just handfuls of uh, dump that in that sort of not quite full bag over there. There is not so much method to the madness, but rather this method is a byproduct of the madness. Don't judge me.
None the less, tomorrow I travel north to the great land called Gustavus where I will officially embark on my third year of college (this is the parenthetical where I say something like, "holy shit is that real? third year? Uh.... I'm almost certain they shouldn't have passed me in the first two. I'm likely still a freshman or at the ver least a sophomore.) That being said, I should probably not blink, otherwise I'll be graduating and won't have any idea what I'm supposed to do with my life. Classic.
In other news, I've finished my scrapbook! I think I will bring it with me to the hill where I will allow it to collect dust and I will occasionally force it upon my friends who are sick and tired of listening to me babble about Italy this, and Rome public transportation that. Oh well, it's pretty and I'm fat and sassy. (that one was for you Molly).
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
Themed Thursday: PICK ME!
THEMED THURSDAY! THEMED THURSDAY! THEMED THURSDAY!
But Kelsey, it's Friday. We've been waiting for 48 hours for this moment and you can't even title your blog post right?
To that I say, I'm sorry. I'm doing my best to keep up with your demands, but sometimes I'm human, and that means I don't eat people--
What? What was that? A segue to today's theme!?!?!?!
Yes, yes it was. And that means we need to start picking sides for the Zombie Apocalypse. And this my friends, is more important than dodgeball. So stand up straight and pay attention. This information could save your life. Sort of.
Rules: Pick 3 other people (besides yourself) living, dead, or fictional for your Zombie Apocalypse team. These are the people that know the rules- double tap, cardio, and other basic survival skills, like open fire cooking (and I don't mean cooking in the front lines, I mean over an open flame). Are you ready to face December 21st? Go.
1) Dexter Morgan: Crime fighting, crime killing individual with extensive knowledge of knife wielding and blood analysis. Other skills: being incredibly attractive. He's an ideal candidate for all of these reasons in addition to his witty monologues and scheming mentality.
But Kelsey, it's Friday. We've been waiting for 48 hours for this moment and you can't even title your blog post right?
To that I say, I'm sorry. I'm doing my best to keep up with your demands, but sometimes I'm human, and that means I don't eat people--
What? What was that? A segue to today's theme!?!?!?!
Yes, yes it was. And that means we need to start picking sides for the Zombie Apocalypse. And this my friends, is more important than dodgeball. So stand up straight and pay attention. This information could save your life. Sort of.
Rules: Pick 3 other people (besides yourself) living, dead, or fictional for your Zombie Apocalypse team. These are the people that know the rules- double tap, cardio, and other basic survival skills, like open fire cooking (and I don't mean cooking in the front lines, I mean over an open flame). Are you ready to face December 21st? Go.
1) Dexter Morgan: Crime fighting, crime killing individual with extensive knowledge of knife wielding and blood analysis. Other skills: being incredibly attractive. He's an ideal candidate for all of these reasons in addition to his witty monologues and scheming mentality.
2) My Uncle Kent: Damn good cook, tells bigger than life stories, has experience fixing things and tough guy problem solving, as well as being a general "I'm not dead yet, so I must be fine" sort of person. Always has a good story and that's pretty ideal when you spend the rest of your time avoiding/hunting zombies.
3) Cadi: According to her facebook profile pic, she has experience shooting a gun, typically funny, has some good stories, and general absurdity. That means being able to talk to someone for hours to delay pure and utter boredom. After all, this is what we do on a regular basis when driving to and from places that are super far away. So boom.
And I would like to make a clarification: This is all based on the idea that I am secretly an elf who can run really fast, see really far (without glasses or binoculars), and has exceptional bow and arrow skills. I say this for 2 reasons: 1) Those are useful things in a Zombie Apocalypse and I don't have any of those skills now. 2) I just really want to be an elf.
Ok, that's it for me. I'll probably blog about the remainder of my week(end) with Michelle in Duluth tomorrow or Sunday when I'm sitting all alone in my apartment making cupcakes out of my tears.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
It's a Straight Line
Oh the adventures you'll have! And Iowa is no different.
Damnit, I'm already lying in this post. No good. Ok, deep breath, try again.
Let's start from the beginning. Quick version is I made it all the way to St. Pete from KC and had to drive through Iowa to get here. For those of you with Reader's Digest appetites, that was a quick meal. Happy to oblige. Now for the rest of you voracious readers (get it? It rhymes with eaters... which is a continuation of the digest pun... oh never mind.)
So after I woke up, I'm sure you all will be relieved to know that I finished the first season of Mad Men. It was concerning, I know, but I managed to squeeze in that one last episode before I threw everything in the car and bolted.
Side note, I am forever glad that I make badass playlists. That's the only way this car ride works. And I loudly sand to Gina and Daniele's album. Forgot about them? I never do. Amazing. Always.
I have decided that instead of telling you about the trip (well there's not a lot to say) I thought I would play the license plate game a la blog. This involves me telling you things about what I've done in each state listed. (I probably forgot one or two, but this is most of the ones I saw). I'll include either a fun fact, short story (of the shortest variety), or what happened while driving through said state today. It should make this a little more entertaining.
Kansas: My high school was on the Missouri side of the state line between MO and KS. Consequently, there were lots of people who lived in KS instead. It also meant that for every day of HS, I was in two states at some point during the day.
Louisiana: I've never been here. Anyone want to go?
Minnesota: When MNers tell me where they are from, I often tune out and insert the words "The Cities" instead of whatever town they actually say. Offensive? Maybe. Also, Cadi maybe on to something with the MN driver thing. Iowans may not like to turn on their lights, but MN people make U-turns from wrong lanes, in native lands. Seriously, didn't have any "Let's call the police with their license plate number" moments until I hit the MN border. Scary.
Illinois: Last year, I think I was in IL 4 times over the course of the season. If you like math, that's about 9 hours from MN each way. So 72 hours traveling back and forth from IL, suits in tow. Only one of those times did we actually get stopped in somewhere other than our destination for the night.
Tennessee:I remember going to Nashville for something, and staying in what was impressed upon me as a very cool hotel, but I don't remember anything but the atrium and the abundance of shrubbery.
Missouri: I live there. Uh, that's a fun fact right?
Utah: I went to Park City the summer after the Olympics and there are two things that I would like to bring up. 1) The ski/beret hat that I bought, and still wear. And 2) one of my favorite bookstores of all time is called Dolly's-right near the condo we stayed in. They have several cats in the store and one of them likes to sit by the cash register and greet the masses.
Michigan: Been there. Done that. Know lots of people who live there. I hear Karaoke is a smash #lovefest.
Nebraska: Ah, what isn't to love about Nebraska? Phil says that it's the greatest, minus Rupert of course. I think there are so many stories to be told about Nebraska. To, from, there. Just all of it. AFA 2011.
Arkansas: So one of my favorite people of all time grew up there and still has a fondness for the place, it must be ok. I went once. I remember driving around really curvy roads and looking through really dorky/nerdy brochures about some "paths of Clinton" or something like that... Yup, that's what I've got.
Iowa: I considered leaving this one blank for emphasis. But since I spent so much of my day slogging through it, I thought I would at least try. First of all: It only rains in Iowa. Sure it looked cloudy all day, but it didn't start raining until the minute I crossed the boarder. Boo that. Second: What's worse than Iowa? Iowa when it's raining. Third: Iowa, in an attempt to get back at me for verbally bashing her decided to play this game. It's called, make sure you can only ever pay attention to your windshield wipers game. Sound like fun? Here's how you play. When it's only sprinkling, you put on the wipers on a nice slow tick-tock pace. But by the time you set that, there's this torrential down pour when no matter how fast your wipers are going you still can't see the road in front of you. Then it's sprinkling again and you still can't see the road because of how fast your wipers are going (blur much?). Repeat process. The worst. And lastly, I had the pleasure of stopping in Story City for gas. Jealous? I expected as much. But it's just like St. Peter!!!! Well, minus the sign that said, "Story to tell." But there was a Happy Chef, and a gas station, and an RV sales lot.. Ok that last one is not like SP, but you get the point. Two Happy Chef sightings in a day? How delicious is that? Mayhaps not, but I was looking for anything to make Iowa sound exciting.
And that's my life. All of it. I'm zonked, so I'm peacin out for the night. Work in the morning-bound to be an adventure.
Damnit, I'm already lying in this post. No good. Ok, deep breath, try again.
Let's start from the beginning. Quick version is I made it all the way to St. Pete from KC and had to drive through Iowa to get here. For those of you with Reader's Digest appetites, that was a quick meal. Happy to oblige. Now for the rest of you voracious readers (get it? It rhymes with eaters... which is a continuation of the digest pun... oh never mind.)
So after I woke up, I'm sure you all will be relieved to know that I finished the first season of Mad Men. It was concerning, I know, but I managed to squeeze in that one last episode before I threw everything in the car and bolted.
Side note, I am forever glad that I make badass playlists. That's the only way this car ride works. And I loudly sand to Gina and Daniele's album. Forgot about them? I never do. Amazing. Always.
I have decided that instead of telling you about the trip (well there's not a lot to say) I thought I would play the license plate game a la blog. This involves me telling you things about what I've done in each state listed. (I probably forgot one or two, but this is most of the ones I saw). I'll include either a fun fact, short story (of the shortest variety), or what happened while driving through said state today. It should make this a little more entertaining.
Kansas: My high school was on the Missouri side of the state line between MO and KS. Consequently, there were lots of people who lived in KS instead. It also meant that for every day of HS, I was in two states at some point during the day.
Louisiana: I've never been here. Anyone want to go?
Minnesota: When MNers tell me where they are from, I often tune out and insert the words "The Cities" instead of whatever town they actually say. Offensive? Maybe. Also, Cadi maybe on to something with the MN driver thing. Iowans may not like to turn on their lights, but MN people make U-turns from wrong lanes, in native lands. Seriously, didn't have any "Let's call the police with their license plate number" moments until I hit the MN border. Scary.
Illinois: Last year, I think I was in IL 4 times over the course of the season. If you like math, that's about 9 hours from MN each way. So 72 hours traveling back and forth from IL, suits in tow. Only one of those times did we actually get stopped in somewhere other than our destination for the night.
Tennessee:I remember going to Nashville for something, and staying in what was impressed upon me as a very cool hotel, but I don't remember anything but the atrium and the abundance of shrubbery.
Missouri: I live there. Uh, that's a fun fact right?
Utah: I went to Park City the summer after the Olympics and there are two things that I would like to bring up. 1) The ski/beret hat that I bought, and still wear. And 2) one of my favorite bookstores of all time is called Dolly's-right near the condo we stayed in. They have several cats in the store and one of them likes to sit by the cash register and greet the masses.
Michigan: Been there. Done that. Know lots of people who live there. I hear Karaoke is a smash #lovefest.
Nebraska: Ah, what isn't to love about Nebraska? Phil says that it's the greatest, minus Rupert of course. I think there are so many stories to be told about Nebraska. To, from, there. Just all of it. AFA 2011.
Arkansas: So one of my favorite people of all time grew up there and still has a fondness for the place, it must be ok. I went once. I remember driving around really curvy roads and looking through really dorky/nerdy brochures about some "paths of Clinton" or something like that... Yup, that's what I've got.
Iowa: I considered leaving this one blank for emphasis. But since I spent so much of my day slogging through it, I thought I would at least try. First of all: It only rains in Iowa. Sure it looked cloudy all day, but it didn't start raining until the minute I crossed the boarder. Boo that. Second: What's worse than Iowa? Iowa when it's raining. Third: Iowa, in an attempt to get back at me for verbally bashing her decided to play this game. It's called, make sure you can only ever pay attention to your windshield wipers game. Sound like fun? Here's how you play. When it's only sprinkling, you put on the wipers on a nice slow tick-tock pace. But by the time you set that, there's this torrential down pour when no matter how fast your wipers are going you still can't see the road in front of you. Then it's sprinkling again and you still can't see the road because of how fast your wipers are going (blur much?). Repeat process. The worst. And lastly, I had the pleasure of stopping in Story City for gas. Jealous? I expected as much. But it's just like St. Peter!!!! Well, minus the sign that said, "Story to tell." But there was a Happy Chef, and a gas station, and an RV sales lot.. Ok that last one is not like SP, but you get the point. Two Happy Chef sightings in a day? How delicious is that? Mayhaps not, but I was looking for anything to make Iowa sound exciting.
And that's my life. All of it. I'm zonked, so I'm peacin out for the night. Work in the morning-bound to be an adventure.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Mistress Minnesota
Who decided that living in Minnesota was a good thing? I've just gotten back from a beautiful time abroad in a lovely temperate climate and been lucky enough to go to Texas for a weekend, and suddenly mistress Minnesota gets jealous and turns to ice. How rude. And it's not even the frozen water kind of ice we're talking about here, it's just the kind of cold where without having any congestion what do ever your sinuses feel like the a time bomb. And when the inside of your skull freezes, you know it's a bit chilly. And now that it has snowed several inches I had the lovely reminder of the Gustavus snow management. Yippee.
The basic summary of that paragraph rant is that mistress MN is having her rotten revenge with me. What a cruel world.
In other, potentially more interesting news, the most recent tournament, that of Hell Froze Over, went splendidly. It feels wonderful to be back in the loving black book cradling/VA toting arms of the forensics community. What stunning people. And, the other good thing is that I have the opportunity to travel with these stars for the rest of the semester. Be jealous.
The basic summary of that paragraph rant is that mistress MN is having her rotten revenge with me. What a cruel world.
In other, potentially more interesting news, the most recent tournament, that of Hell Froze Over, went splendidly. It feels wonderful to be back in the loving black book cradling/VA toting arms of the forensics community. What stunning people. And, the other good thing is that I have the opportunity to travel with these stars for the rest of the semester. Be jealous.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
How to make a 20+ hour bus ride fly by
There is nothing like a Kansas sunset. Even if you are in the heart of Leawood, the entire western half of the horizon turns a brilliant and unique combination of orange, purple, pink, yellow, and blue. And here I am, on a bus with a bunch of speech kids, headed to Texas. Now if that doesn't sound like a blast, then you are missing out in life.
Let's do a recap of the past few weeks since the last time I put something on the Internet for everyone to read at their leisure: speech.
Good now that we've covered that I can tell you about today, in its infinite excitement. After packing all of the important things that you would need for a forensics tournament, you know, like shoes, underwear, and the ever wonderful suits, I finally managed to get to sleep. This morning I rolled out of bed, attempted to collect some blankets, some food from the caf, and the important things previously mentioned. And hobbled/tottered/dragged my freezing behind through the newly remembered winds of the hill. So despite my incredible struggle to make my way across campus with unicorn pillow pet and Judy Garland blanket in tow and I admittedly couldn't feel my fingers by the time I got to that fabulous new building.
Fast forward and think about driving on a coach bus through, by the end of the trip, six states (MN, IA, MO, KS, OK, TX) can you say busy? I mean besides the stunning scenery, and the beautiful Kansan sunset, it's been a pretty normal speech ride. Strange jokes, funny commentary, random CDs, and a few odd movies. Add in the "team bonding" games that happen to include packets of condiments taken from fast food restaurants. I don't think I can explain that any better.
So I think at this point I'm going to leave your imagination to run wild with the idea of 25 speechies on a bus, watching labyrinth. Sweet dreams!
Let's do a recap of the past few weeks since the last time I put something on the Internet for everyone to read at their leisure: speech.
Good now that we've covered that I can tell you about today, in its infinite excitement. After packing all of the important things that you would need for a forensics tournament, you know, like shoes, underwear, and the ever wonderful suits, I finally managed to get to sleep. This morning I rolled out of bed, attempted to collect some blankets, some food from the caf, and the important things previously mentioned. And hobbled/tottered/dragged my freezing behind through the newly remembered winds of the hill. So despite my incredible struggle to make my way across campus with unicorn pillow pet and Judy Garland blanket in tow and I admittedly couldn't feel my fingers by the time I got to that fabulous new building.
Fast forward and think about driving on a coach bus through, by the end of the trip, six states (MN, IA, MO, KS, OK, TX) can you say busy? I mean besides the stunning scenery, and the beautiful Kansan sunset, it's been a pretty normal speech ride. Strange jokes, funny commentary, random CDs, and a few odd movies. Add in the "team bonding" games that happen to include packets of condiments taken from fast food restaurants. I don't think I can explain that any better.
So I think at this point I'm going to leave your imagination to run wild with the idea of 25 speechies on a bus, watching labyrinth. Sweet dreams!
Friday, December 23, 2011
Leaving the Eternal City
The good news:
I am not dead, I have survived finals, airplanes, and the welcome home crew.
I have recovered from jetlag.
I am now going to relate to you my last few hours in the beautiful city of Rome.
Basically that means that you are really excited and can't wait to read the rest of this post! How thrilling!
Forgive me because part of this was from about 4:30am at the airport and such, so I'll do my best to piece together the good parts.
And here we go!
Technically I have been up since about 7:15 on Friday. Currently, it is 5:37am on Saturday and I am in an airport. I will admit that I took a bit of a catnap before I really left the apartment at 3:30 this morning. Now keep in mind that I have been a very busy little munchkin. For instance, after enjoying our last night at Ombre Rosse, and watching Roman Holiday (yes, I finally got around to it. I personally think it was more fun to watch after living in Rome for four months.) I immediately went to bed so that I could wake up bright and early and do some damage on that Italian High Renaissance Exam. Favorite way to start a day? You betcha. That exam is a whole different can of worms, but I’m willing to tell you about the rest of my day. So after I managed to survive the test (with or without Carolyn’s help… 3 not on the list? Really Carolyn?) I talked to a few people from my class and then leisurely walked to Campo de Fiori. Where I made a last minute souvenir purchase, and then swung by that yarn store that I mentioned earlier. Yes, I caved. I bought some incredibly soft yarn just so I could make a hat. Unfortunately, before I can even begin to think about that hat I have about 3 other knitting projects to get to work on. So I’ll let you know how that turns out. (To give you a little hint about how wonderful this yarn is, Erica described it as no longer fabric, but goo. I don’t know how I feel about that, but it seems relevant.)
Moving on! So I then walked all the way back to the apartment (a lovely little stroll) to a group of panicking roommates who were freaked out that I didn’t answer my phone and was waaaay later than the exam should have taken. But they quickly forgave me and everyone was content listening to The Muppets Christmas Carol (a splendid little beam of light for any occasion). So after our little freakout session, I began my whirlwind packing tour. Since I have been the last to finish with finals (that sucked), I was also the last one to pack. Thus, while everyone else was frolicking and having a jolly time packing, I was barricaded in the library with large academic picture books and attempting to study. And after some frantic packing and singing of Christmas carols, we headed back out to return our bricks, I mean cell phones, and to explore the city one last time. This meant giving one last patriotic send off to JCU, and traipsing around Via del Corso and eventually ending up at the Trevi Fountain.
Now there are two sides to the Trevi Fountain. One can be seen during the day, and a totally different aura happens at night that you just have to experience for yourself to really appreciate it. The crowds and tour groups are much diminished for one, and the four of us were able to find a seat and just enjoy watching the fountain for probably close to an hour. If this seems like a waste of time to you, you haven't been there.
After making our wishes and doing the Gustie Rouser one more time, we headed back home to change into something a little bit more dressy and go to dinner. There we traded our secret Santa gifts (big hit, we're cool people) and proceeded to make our way to this 4 star restaurant that we had found with the help of our ever fancy guide books called Ferrera.
Though right in our backyard (relatively), we had never stumbled on this little jewel before. With their exquisite wine list, we had a delicious time eating and being generally jovial. At midnight we left the premise and I began my stop watch. Yes, that is correct, as a good speechie, I brought a stopwatch with me to Europe and now seemed like the perfect time to use it. Why? Because I had just begun the longest birthday of my life.
So considering that I had been awake since 7:15 that morning, and I had to leave my apartment for the airport at 3:30am, there was really no point in going to sleep, so let the packing festivities begin! We went back to the apartment to do some last minute packing and such. And around 1:45, I just couldn’t stand it any longer and took a cat nap until 2:45. But of course we were all terrified of not waking up for our flights, so there we were, all falling asleep, all with the lights on. At 2:45 I woke up, threw the last few things in my bag and called it a night. I made sure that everyone got up to wish me off (it did include a few tears, and not just because of the early hour) and I rolled my way out of the apartment for the last time.
Driving to the airport I realized that Italians, no matter what time of day, drive like it’s Mario Kart. That’s not a racist slur at all, it’s just fact. It’s 3:30 in the morning and there is no real reason to drive like you are avoiding the wrath of God, or the police for that matter, but that’s what was happening. And within 20 minutes we were pulling up to the terminal.
I drag all of my worldly possessions up to the ticket counter only to find that it has no one to attend it and approximately 10 other JCU students patiently waiting in these predawn hours for someone to take the heavy things toward their final destination. No such luck. So I parked my caravan of things and took a seat to wait for an hour before someone decided that it was time to go to work. That happened at 5. Let’s do a little tally of time spent asleep from the time that I woke up on Friday morning, to when I went to bed KC time on Saturday. So far, it’s Saturday morning and I’ve been asleep for 1 of 22 hours. After the chaos of getting bags checked in and paying exorbitant amounts of money to get a second one in (because a backpack is not a personal item) through the same security line as the mosh pit style one-except without the problems of Prague. So basically a breeze, to the gate, and then on the plane.
There were two lovely things about this plane ride: 1) I had a row to myself. 2) Because of 1, I got to sleep.
Sleep total: 3.5 hours of 26.5 hours.
When I got off the plane, one of the flight attendants said, “Hey look, she’s awake.” That is the last proof that I have of any sleep I had on this birthday of travel.
In Zurich, I had to re-go through security, which instead of metal detectors and angry people in polyester, it was just a booth of angry people in polyester asking questions. Same difference. So I grabbed a cup of coffee and some breakfast, and waited for the next flight. As that flight began boarding, there was an announcement over the speakers that said something like, “This plane will be landing in Baincorh (spelled phonetically) before continuing on to Philledelphia.” Uh… did he just say Bangkok? That’s in the wrong direction. I will never make my connecting flight. When the announcement was made again, it sounded like Bengal, which is also, nowhere close to Philly, or home. Crap.
So when I get up to the front of the line, I ask, now where are we landing? “Baincorh, you’ve never heard of it? It’s in your country.” I’m sure Bengal and Bangkok are in my country. To hell they are. “Yeah, Baincorh Maine.” OH. Yeah, I totally know Bangor Maine.
NOT.
Great, on the plane, there are no personal TVs, I’m going to Maine before going to Philly before going to KC and there’s a balding, dandruffed (didn’t think that would go together), overweight, bouncing man sitting in front of me. Every time he sat back down, he literally bounced in the seat. Talk about making working on my computer a real hazard. None the less, I was sitting next to a fellow art history major who had also survived JCU and we bonded over the Extreme Couponer episode being played. Classy stuff.
Over that 9+ hour flight I think I slept less than an hour, and never well, so we’ll round that down to 30 minutes and add that to the earlier 3.5. Total: 4 of 36 hours.
Land in Bangor. It was boring, we didn’t get off the plane, and pretty much got right back on the runway and headed to Philly. My one discovery in Bangor was that my phone was completely and irrevocably dead. Talk about anticlimactic.
Eventually land in Philly, recheck the luggage, go through customs, and wait for the next and final leg of my rather long journey. Keep in mind that now it is approximately 5 Philly time, and I’ll get back home at 7:30ish KC time. Fast forward (past all of the, they speak English here realizations, and oh wait you don’t need my passport to get on the plane things) and I took a catnap on the plane and that brought my grand total up to something like 5 of 40 hours. Then [drum roll please]
HOME.
Yes, after all of this time, I finally made it all the way back home. Home: to the little humble KCI airport, to my three mildly crazy cats, my parents, and my own bed. What a lovely thing it is to be home.
We had some Chinese food, and I opened 2 presents (I was not awake enough to open the rest, remember? It was my birthday all during this adventure) and crawled into bed until the next morning.
Since that very long day, I have been reconnecting with friends, getting my technology problem fixed (I’ve joined the dark side, hello iphone?) and knitting like a fiend. It’s good to see all of these wonderful people, but I also know that the next reunion is going to be located in the more convenient St. Peter. Minnesota style.
Home.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
A final boarding call
I'm sorry i'm sorry I'm terribly sorry!
I will post a desperately long (series) of posts about the final hours of my Roman Holiday and how I returned to the states during the longest birthday ever, and even what I've been doing post Italy.
In the meantime, I would like some input.
Should this delightful little blog continue? Would you still love me if I didn't have as many adventures to share?
I will post a desperately long (series) of posts about the final hours of my Roman Holiday and how I returned to the states during the longest birthday ever, and even what I've been doing post Italy.
In the meantime, I would like some input.
Should this delightful little blog continue? Would you still love me if I didn't have as many adventures to share?
Friday, December 9, 2011
Talking to Birds
So this morning at 6am, I decided that it would be a good idea to wake up, get out of bed and get on a train. Doesn't that sound like your perfect morning? Now just add a suit and it's a regular weekend!
Anyway, I stumbled my way to the kitchen, made some coffee, and figured that I should get ready. So load up at the crack of dawn and make it all the way to the train station. La dee da, train ride, blah writing and watching the beautiful countryside whiz by.
So in Assisi there are a few things to do. 1) Go to the St. Francis Basilica. 2) Go to the St. Francis Basilica and look at art. Guess what I did? I'll give you three guesses. So I went there and did that and it was amazing. All I really want in my life is a chorus of Giotto angels. Ok, and maybe the ability to talk to birds (also applicable to this topic. Look it up), but that's all I really want. I spent a good hour and a half visiting the art and Francis himself as well as his historical clothing. All good things really.
I then spent some time walking around stores, speaking to the natives and just enjoying the day. I walked around a few other religious sites and then got back on the train and came back to Rome. What a delightful day away.
First of 5 finals tomorrow. May the countdown to home begin.
Anyway, I stumbled my way to the kitchen, made some coffee, and figured that I should get ready. So load up at the crack of dawn and make it all the way to the train station. La dee da, train ride, blah writing and watching the beautiful countryside whiz by.
So in Assisi there are a few things to do. 1) Go to the St. Francis Basilica. 2) Go to the St. Francis Basilica and look at art. Guess what I did? I'll give you three guesses. So I went there and did that and it was amazing. All I really want in my life is a chorus of Giotto angels. Ok, and maybe the ability to talk to birds (also applicable to this topic. Look it up), but that's all I really want. I spent a good hour and a half visiting the art and Francis himself as well as his historical clothing. All good things really.
I then spent some time walking around stores, speaking to the natives and just enjoying the day. I walked around a few other religious sites and then got back on the train and came back to Rome. What a delightful day away.
First of 5 finals tomorrow. May the countdown to home begin.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Prague Day 1: Getting Searched and Searching for Ghosts
If I knew the real way to say 'Hello' in Czech, I would, but for now you'll have to deal with my made up phonetic version: Doh-bree-e-den. Wasn't that wonderful? It's amazing that I don't teach languages. I'm talented.
So the only fiasco that we encountered in going to Prague was actually getting there. The original plan was to get up before dawn, get to the airport, and get basically to Prague in time for a proper breakfast. Well, that would be far too easy, so instead, we were notified that our flight was cancelled, and that we were being moved to a later flight... One that left 7 hours later. BOO. So we sucked it up and left 7 hours later instead (and I did enjoy that little bit of extra sleep).
None the less, we made it to the airport in time for the rest of the world to also want to be leaving Italy. Why does everyone want to leave? Not a clue, but basically all of Rome was in the airport in one small room. Not even kidding. It was the most hellish airport experience I've ever had. We waited in a que line for a good hour, get our passports glanced at and then literally thrown into a mosh pit of angry travelers who don't know how to prepare for security scanners. (In my personal opinion, this means that you shouldn't be traveling, but they don't let me run things. I'm not in charge.) So instead, it was the biggest pile of hot mess you've ever seen in your life. Approximately 300 people all mobbing toward 8 security scanners WITHOUT QUE LINES. What?!?!?! What happened Italy? String would do, long pieces of tape, reconfigured spiderwebs, ANYTHING but it just turned into an anxious swarm of unhappy. And because there were no que lines, or any guiding factors really at all, the people kept pushing toward the front without regard for those in front of them, trying to sneak in to the scanners first, and generally pissing off everyone else. Then all of the people who were running late (ie erryone) were extra anxious because there were 7 people who were on time in front of them. Woof. Town. So after another hour of that, we made it to the gate, slightly bruised, and temperamental, but going to Prague!
Boring plane things, blah, PRAGUE. Now to get from the airport to the hostel there are several things you have to do. 1) Get Czech money. That's approximately 25 Krona to 1 Euro. So get something that feels like a lot. 2) Get a 24 hour pass. 3) Take the bus. 4) Take the Metro. 5) Take the Tram. 6) Walk around and get kind of lost because we don't read Czech, and it's dark. We then walked up a hill to suddenly find our hostel! Huzzah! Czech in, (there are going to be a lot of those in here, get used to them) drop off our stuff, and find some dinner.
So we wander, wander, wander, and after walking into several adorable stores (hey dad, I found one with a toy John Deere tractor. For the low low price of 1125 krona!) and eventually found food. In this tiny little restaurant, there was a lovely television screen showing pictures of what we determined were deer-kats: they looked like meerkats, but patterned like baby deer. And if that's not enough of a draw to go to a restaurant, I don't know what you want. (Besides maybe Gates BBQ. OH FOR THE LOVE OF GATES). At this point we decided that we wanted to go on a ghost tour. On your marks, get set, GO-we have 20 minutes to find the ghost tour listed in the brochure.
Now if you've only been in a city for a few hours and it's dark, and you haven't walked anywhere, trying to find an office on some random street is not the easiest thing to do. But with spidey senses tingling, we managed to run right into it. And lucky that we did. In order to get the 10 o'clock tour, one other couple had showed up. Unfortunately, the 10 pm tour is only supposed to happen in the summer, as in not December. Oops. Apparently, the other couple had been told that if more people showed up, that he would give the tour, SURPRISE! Here we are! Saving the day or ruining the day, depending on who you are. Oh well. So we giggle and sign up for tour. He shoos us out of the little office while he puts on his costume. Oooo scary.
So he comes out of the office in his red cloak/hood that is intended to be the costume of the traditional Czech executioner. Fun stuff right? And we go back into the office for a quick introduction and a survey. Survey? Oh yes, how would you prefer to be executed? A) Noose. B) Axe. (the joke here was that it was the middle school boy spray, same dif) C) Sword. (my answer) D) Hammer. E) Fire. F) Water. There were little tallies next to all of them, with the most popular being axe. So while you ponder that, just picture us going on the most hilarious ghost tour ever. I mean, I've been on several ghost tours where they tell you creepy stories, and some of them are half believable, and even frightening, but this one was just straight up joke. He tried to scare me once, I wasn't too frightened, as in I had a super delayed/faked scream. Funny, but not the reaction he was looking for. So he decided to scare Kate instead, that one worked.
After the hilarious tour, we walked around singing Harry Potter Puppet Pals (what do you mean this isn't Czech?) and wandered around the pretty much closed Christmas market. Tried a bit o grog which was disgusting, and then called it a night and went back to the hostel for some shut eye.
And I will leave you hanging on that terrifying note. Expect day 2 of Prague tomorrow.
So the only fiasco that we encountered in going to Prague was actually getting there. The original plan was to get up before dawn, get to the airport, and get basically to Prague in time for a proper breakfast. Well, that would be far too easy, so instead, we were notified that our flight was cancelled, and that we were being moved to a later flight... One that left 7 hours later. BOO. So we sucked it up and left 7 hours later instead (and I did enjoy that little bit of extra sleep).
None the less, we made it to the airport in time for the rest of the world to also want to be leaving Italy. Why does everyone want to leave? Not a clue, but basically all of Rome was in the airport in one small room. Not even kidding. It was the most hellish airport experience I've ever had. We waited in a que line for a good hour, get our passports glanced at and then literally thrown into a mosh pit of angry travelers who don't know how to prepare for security scanners. (In my personal opinion, this means that you shouldn't be traveling, but they don't let me run things. I'm not in charge.) So instead, it was the biggest pile of hot mess you've ever seen in your life. Approximately 300 people all mobbing toward 8 security scanners WITHOUT QUE LINES. What?!?!?! What happened Italy? String would do, long pieces of tape, reconfigured spiderwebs, ANYTHING but it just turned into an anxious swarm of unhappy. And because there were no que lines, or any guiding factors really at all, the people kept pushing toward the front without regard for those in front of them, trying to sneak in to the scanners first, and generally pissing off everyone else. Then all of the people who were running late (ie erryone) were extra anxious because there were 7 people who were on time in front of them. Woof. Town. So after another hour of that, we made it to the gate, slightly bruised, and temperamental, but going to Prague!
Boring plane things, blah, PRAGUE. Now to get from the airport to the hostel there are several things you have to do. 1) Get Czech money. That's approximately 25 Krona to 1 Euro. So get something that feels like a lot. 2) Get a 24 hour pass. 3) Take the bus. 4) Take the Metro. 5) Take the Tram. 6) Walk around and get kind of lost because we don't read Czech, and it's dark. We then walked up a hill to suddenly find our hostel! Huzzah! Czech in, (there are going to be a lot of those in here, get used to them) drop off our stuff, and find some dinner.
So we wander, wander, wander, and after walking into several adorable stores (hey dad, I found one with a toy John Deere tractor. For the low low price of 1125 krona!) and eventually found food. In this tiny little restaurant, there was a lovely television screen showing pictures of what we determined were deer-kats: they looked like meerkats, but patterned like baby deer. And if that's not enough of a draw to go to a restaurant, I don't know what you want. (Besides maybe Gates BBQ. OH FOR THE LOVE OF GATES). At this point we decided that we wanted to go on a ghost tour. On your marks, get set, GO-we have 20 minutes to find the ghost tour listed in the brochure.
Now if you've only been in a city for a few hours and it's dark, and you haven't walked anywhere, trying to find an office on some random street is not the easiest thing to do. But with spidey senses tingling, we managed to run right into it. And lucky that we did. In order to get the 10 o'clock tour, one other couple had showed up. Unfortunately, the 10 pm tour is only supposed to happen in the summer, as in not December. Oops. Apparently, the other couple had been told that if more people showed up, that he would give the tour, SURPRISE! Here we are! Saving the day or ruining the day, depending on who you are. Oh well. So we giggle and sign up for tour. He shoos us out of the little office while he puts on his costume. Oooo scary.
So he comes out of the office in his red cloak/hood that is intended to be the costume of the traditional Czech executioner. Fun stuff right? And we go back into the office for a quick introduction and a survey. Survey? Oh yes, how would you prefer to be executed? A) Noose. B) Axe. (the joke here was that it was the middle school boy spray, same dif) C) Sword. (my answer) D) Hammer. E) Fire. F) Water. There were little tallies next to all of them, with the most popular being axe. So while you ponder that, just picture us going on the most hilarious ghost tour ever. I mean, I've been on several ghost tours where they tell you creepy stories, and some of them are half believable, and even frightening, but this one was just straight up joke. He tried to scare me once, I wasn't too frightened, as in I had a super delayed/faked scream. Funny, but not the reaction he was looking for. So he decided to scare Kate instead, that one worked.
After the hilarious tour, we walked around singing Harry Potter Puppet Pals (what do you mean this isn't Czech?) and wandered around the pretty much closed Christmas market. Tried a bit o grog which was disgusting, and then called it a night and went back to the hostel for some shut eye.
And I will leave you hanging on that terrifying note. Expect day 2 of Prague tomorrow.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Ireland and Edinburgh-The leftovers
Huzzah! Thus begins day two in Ireland. We wake up to attempt to find some decent grub in the hostel (besides the half bag of Doritos and left over Dr. Pepper) and we found instant coffee, and toast. So we went to Starbucks. That's right, Starbucks. Laugh if you want, but it's one of the greatest inventions of all time. And we went there a lot. I love coffee.
So after that we decided to take a little self guided tour around Dublin. This included stopping in and around various cathedrals, taking adorable pictures, and generally being amazing. Eventually, we decided that it was worth grabbing some lunch before the Guinness storehouse tour. So we dropped into this cafe and had some wonderful soup. Now you're thinking, I mean, yeah soup, whatevs. LIES. After having pasta and pizza and pasta and pizza and gelato and pasta and pizza, SOUP IS AMAZING.
After that little tidbit, we went over to the Guinness factory. Now, I'm not what you would call a good Irishman (woman), so this could be a serious struggle. But, like a true trooper, I was going to enjoy every minute to the best of my ability. So that was that. As someone who knows nothing about alcohol fermentation and different grain combinations and such, this was a fascinating experience. It is all pretty well organized, using a variety of different mediums to keep you moving and entertained. I will say that one of my favorite parts was the room of various add campaigns. So interesante! One of these included that you should drink a Guinness a day for health reasons. Similar to the concept of an apple today. This was recommended by doctors! So there you have it folks, a Guinness a day. Just like the doctor ordered.
Keep in mind that this storehouse is 1) built on a 9,000 year lease (hey dad, got any of those?) 2) It's the largest pint shaped glass in the world. Lots of pints fit in there. 3) It's 7 stories tall. So if that wasn't enough to swallow, we managed to actually do the entire tour all the way up to the top where there is a panoramic view of Dublin while enjoying our pints of fresh Guinness. It was just so much fun to be with wonderful friends in a unique landmark.
After that we decided to walk around the shopping district for a bit, then grab some dinner. We dropped off our stuff at the hostel before dinner and wandered around for a bit before deciding to try a 'boxty' place. Now if you don't know what a boxty is, then you are not alone. So as we were seated in almost our own private room, we just had to ask what we should order. And that came back as get anything with boxty in it. Ok, then when the waiter described it as an Irish burrito, we were sold. So a few minutes later he returned with our boxtys (ies?) lamb for Kate, steak for Erica, and chicken for moi, and they were delicious. Simply wonderful.
After that we had to enjoy our last night with Vanessa by going to find some live music/Irish dancing. And low and behold, we found some. Vanessa and I planned our escape, and that was basically magic. The Irish step really just reminded me of two very different things. 1) Ava. 2) The Congressional Award. Both are strange associations, but I think very applicable. But we sadly had to leave and get some shut eye because we were leaving the hostel before God gets up. And by that I mean we had to be down stairs for the shuttle at 4:30 AM. AM. BAH. And that's without pump up music loudly playing, or other people around. Boo.
Fast forward (it's only 4 hours, you didn't miss much.) and we are in a shuttle driving backwards. Literally driving backwards. You thought Cadi's picture with the semi was confusing? Imagine if you will driving on the left-hand side of the road IN REVERSE. Of course at 4:30 am, this irony is just too much to vocalize without drooling or crossing your eyes (it's kind of like a strange dream where you can't figure out if anything is real or not.) So I (and this is rare) kept my mouth shut and didn't make any smart comments about how they really do drive backwards here.... None the less, we made it to the airport, mostly driving forward. So that's good.
At the airport I got Naked. No, not like that.... I found (at Starbucks=life saver) Nakeds and I was basically the happiest person in the whole airport. I actually think I'm at my funniest around 4-5 am. I think the team will attest to this. And we jumped on that earlybird Ryan Air flight and enjoyed everything that they tried to sell us (Newspapers, cigarettes, food, Women of Ryan Air calendar-Christmas list for sure, and there was one more, but it was a short flight... so I forgot.). Get into Edinburgh and get ready for our just over 24 hour experience.
Find the hostel, find a Starbucks (yes, again. It's like crack) and then go to the cafe where we were going to meet Claire and Ava. Now this is the final reunion of the semester, and this time we got smart and took pictures. Way to go Erica. The pictures basically show pure joy. And with that many pretty people, it's hard not to see joy and beauty at the same time. There was lots of squealing and hugging (trend?) and then we all had more coffee and bagels (yeeessssss) and all talked very quickly at the same time just rying to catch up as quickly as possible without being super obnoxious. Eventually we peeled ourselves from the warm cozy atmosphere of the Black Medicine cafe (I think that's right) and began our tour a la Edinburgh.
First impressions: It's suuuuper windy. (just like GAC!) It's adorable (Part of this reaction is because I don't think you can quite call Rome cute. So everything smaller than Rome is automatically precious). And there's that realization that there are some really cool things that have happened in this city. Like, oh yeah, Harry Potter began here. WHAT!?!?! Yes, that's right. The Elephant House, I went there. It was amazing. There are so many nooks and crannies that history just lurks and people remember all of it.
We walked through a Christmas market and past the soggy ice skating rink, all the way up to the view point that over looks the water. And it was so windy that you could lean at a 45 degree angle and the wind would hold you up. There are so many pictures of us trying to either stand upright, hold on hats, or just giving up and letting the wind do with my hair as it would.
Then back down to take a few pictures of the castle, and then off to lunch. Lunch was a wonderful plate of nachos and a burger, you know, very Scottish food. And we talked for a few hours before heading off to Claire's apartment to relax and catch up a bit. Then while Claire's boyfriend Kalin began cooking, Ava took us out for a little bit of shopping. We bought our kilts and headed back to the apartment for some delicious moussaka. It was absolutely delectable.
After dinner, we went out to meet some of Claire's friends, and had to say good bye to Ava. That was a bit heart wrenching, but I managed to keep my tears back. Enjoyed the company, the atmosphere, and eventually headed back to our hostel after saying goodbye to Claire and Kalin. I miss them all desperately already.
And pretty much the second my head hit the pillow, I was out for the night. We got up kind of early the next morning to get to the airport. Layover in London, then on to Rome. Nothing too terribly exciting to report (no backwards driving), got home later than expected, but not because of delays. All in all, a fantastic weekend.
Since those adventures, I've been trudging though papers and attempting to go to school. It's sort of working. Oh, and I leave for Prague tomorrow. So that's awesome. It's the last trip of the semester though! I'm thrilled to be going with three wonderful ladies and we are going to have a wonderful time of it. I'll try to let you know how that one goes sooner than I did this week.
So after that we decided to take a little self guided tour around Dublin. This included stopping in and around various cathedrals, taking adorable pictures, and generally being amazing. Eventually, we decided that it was worth grabbing some lunch before the Guinness storehouse tour. So we dropped into this cafe and had some wonderful soup. Now you're thinking, I mean, yeah soup, whatevs. LIES. After having pasta and pizza and pasta and pizza and gelato and pasta and pizza, SOUP IS AMAZING.
After that little tidbit, we went over to the Guinness factory. Now, I'm not what you would call a good Irishman (woman), so this could be a serious struggle. But, like a true trooper, I was going to enjoy every minute to the best of my ability. So that was that. As someone who knows nothing about alcohol fermentation and different grain combinations and such, this was a fascinating experience. It is all pretty well organized, using a variety of different mediums to keep you moving and entertained. I will say that one of my favorite parts was the room of various add campaigns. So interesante! One of these included that you should drink a Guinness a day for health reasons. Similar to the concept of an apple today. This was recommended by doctors! So there you have it folks, a Guinness a day. Just like the doctor ordered.
Keep in mind that this storehouse is 1) built on a 9,000 year lease (hey dad, got any of those?) 2) It's the largest pint shaped glass in the world. Lots of pints fit in there. 3) It's 7 stories tall. So if that wasn't enough to swallow, we managed to actually do the entire tour all the way up to the top where there is a panoramic view of Dublin while enjoying our pints of fresh Guinness. It was just so much fun to be with wonderful friends in a unique landmark.
After that we decided to walk around the shopping district for a bit, then grab some dinner. We dropped off our stuff at the hostel before dinner and wandered around for a bit before deciding to try a 'boxty' place. Now if you don't know what a boxty is, then you are not alone. So as we were seated in almost our own private room, we just had to ask what we should order. And that came back as get anything with boxty in it. Ok, then when the waiter described it as an Irish burrito, we were sold. So a few minutes later he returned with our boxtys (ies?) lamb for Kate, steak for Erica, and chicken for moi, and they were delicious. Simply wonderful.
After that we had to enjoy our last night with Vanessa by going to find some live music/Irish dancing. And low and behold, we found some. Vanessa and I planned our escape, and that was basically magic. The Irish step really just reminded me of two very different things. 1) Ava. 2) The Congressional Award. Both are strange associations, but I think very applicable. But we sadly had to leave and get some shut eye because we were leaving the hostel before God gets up. And by that I mean we had to be down stairs for the shuttle at 4:30 AM. AM. BAH. And that's without pump up music loudly playing, or other people around. Boo.
Fast forward (it's only 4 hours, you didn't miss much.) and we are in a shuttle driving backwards. Literally driving backwards. You thought Cadi's picture with the semi was confusing? Imagine if you will driving on the left-hand side of the road IN REVERSE. Of course at 4:30 am, this irony is just too much to vocalize without drooling or crossing your eyes (it's kind of like a strange dream where you can't figure out if anything is real or not.) So I (and this is rare) kept my mouth shut and didn't make any smart comments about how they really do drive backwards here.... None the less, we made it to the airport, mostly driving forward. So that's good.
At the airport I got Naked. No, not like that.... I found (at Starbucks=life saver) Nakeds and I was basically the happiest person in the whole airport. I actually think I'm at my funniest around 4-5 am. I think the team will attest to this. And we jumped on that earlybird Ryan Air flight and enjoyed everything that they tried to sell us (Newspapers, cigarettes, food, Women of Ryan Air calendar-Christmas list for sure, and there was one more, but it was a short flight... so I forgot.). Get into Edinburgh and get ready for our just over 24 hour experience.
Find the hostel, find a Starbucks (yes, again. It's like crack) and then go to the cafe where we were going to meet Claire and Ava. Now this is the final reunion of the semester, and this time we got smart and took pictures. Way to go Erica. The pictures basically show pure joy. And with that many pretty people, it's hard not to see joy and beauty at the same time. There was lots of squealing and hugging (trend?) and then we all had more coffee and bagels (yeeessssss) and all talked very quickly at the same time just rying to catch up as quickly as possible without being super obnoxious. Eventually we peeled ourselves from the warm cozy atmosphere of the Black Medicine cafe (I think that's right) and began our tour a la Edinburgh.
First impressions: It's suuuuper windy. (just like GAC!) It's adorable (Part of this reaction is because I don't think you can quite call Rome cute. So everything smaller than Rome is automatically precious). And there's that realization that there are some really cool things that have happened in this city. Like, oh yeah, Harry Potter began here. WHAT!?!?! Yes, that's right. The Elephant House, I went there. It was amazing. There are so many nooks and crannies that history just lurks and people remember all of it.
We walked through a Christmas market and past the soggy ice skating rink, all the way up to the view point that over looks the water. And it was so windy that you could lean at a 45 degree angle and the wind would hold you up. There are so many pictures of us trying to either stand upright, hold on hats, or just giving up and letting the wind do with my hair as it would.
Then back down to take a few pictures of the castle, and then off to lunch. Lunch was a wonderful plate of nachos and a burger, you know, very Scottish food. And we talked for a few hours before heading off to Claire's apartment to relax and catch up a bit. Then while Claire's boyfriend Kalin began cooking, Ava took us out for a little bit of shopping. We bought our kilts and headed back to the apartment for some delicious moussaka. It was absolutely delectable.
After dinner, we went out to meet some of Claire's friends, and had to say good bye to Ava. That was a bit heart wrenching, but I managed to keep my tears back. Enjoyed the company, the atmosphere, and eventually headed back to our hostel after saying goodbye to Claire and Kalin. I miss them all desperately already.
And pretty much the second my head hit the pillow, I was out for the night. We got up kind of early the next morning to get to the airport. Layover in London, then on to Rome. Nothing too terribly exciting to report (no backwards driving), got home later than expected, but not because of delays. All in all, a fantastic weekend.
Since those adventures, I've been trudging though papers and attempting to go to school. It's sort of working. Oh, and I leave for Prague tomorrow. So that's awesome. It's the last trip of the semester though! I'm thrilled to be going with three wonderful ladies and we are going to have a wonderful time of it. I'll try to let you know how that one goes sooner than I did this week.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Restlessness of an Hyper-stressed Globe-trotter
I'm terribly sorry you haven't gotten to virtually experience my stress levels for the last 3 days that I've actually been in Rome. Let me tell you, they are something to witness. With 3 papers coming up (all of relatively substantial size: 12 pages, 6 pages, and 3-single space pages) I'm in a very funny mind set.
However even with these overwhelming assignments, I managed to pull myself away from stress-ville (not a nice place to visit, and no I don't want to live there) to have dinner with Molly's family. They are all in town, along with her friend Julie and it was a blast. We had some delicious food, and laughed probably more than we should have, and I don't regret any of it.
That being said, I can't wait to spend this weekend that the United States-ers call Thanksgiving weekend with some of my favorite people (Note: some of, not 'all'. There are very many who are not included, though you are all invited.) As Erica, Kate and I venture to Ireland and Scotland this weekend, I hope that you all remember who has influenced your life, who you haven't spoken to in far too long, and who you are very thankful for in your life. I know I have my list, and I can't wait to reconnect with all of you asap.
So with that, I head to bed. Big adventures in the morning-international flights, green things, friends, and potentially leprechauns. It's going to be awesome.
However even with these overwhelming assignments, I managed to pull myself away from stress-ville (not a nice place to visit, and no I don't want to live there) to have dinner with Molly's family. They are all in town, along with her friend Julie and it was a blast. We had some delicious food, and laughed probably more than we should have, and I don't regret any of it.
That being said, I can't wait to spend this weekend that the United States-ers call Thanksgiving weekend with some of my favorite people (Note: some of, not 'all'. There are very many who are not included, though you are all invited.) As Erica, Kate and I venture to Ireland and Scotland this weekend, I hope that you all remember who has influenced your life, who you haven't spoken to in far too long, and who you are very thankful for in your life. I know I have my list, and I can't wait to reconnect with all of you asap.
So with that, I head to bed. Big adventures in the morning-international flights, green things, friends, and potentially leprechauns. It's going to be awesome.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Reunionize Me Captain! Paris Part One
I would like to begin my re-telling of my Paris adventures with a joke that I made up in 3rd grade.
Set up: (a little bit of background so that you understand how wonderfully clever this is for a 3rd grader)
My class was in French class and our teacher wasn't yet there. So we are nicely sitting in the circle in this little room and someone asked, "Where did the French teacher go?"
Me: "She went out to take a breath of French air."
BAM. That's how funny winners are.
BAM. That's the air I was breathing all weekend. But for real. It was spectacular. I loved it.
So we'll start from the real beginning now. I packed all of my needed things for the weekend and made my way to the airport, full of excitement and the sense of adventure. Just like a little kid. The funny part of that is that I was going to meet up with a friend of mine I hadn't seen since the year after the birth of that beautiful joke you read above. That's a long time ago. And I couldn't believe that it was really and truly actually happening. So I get on the train to go to the airport. Watch this guy ask everyone in the train if it was going to the airport, then watched him get off at the wrong stop (unfortunate). Get there. Go through security (no they didn't search me), get to my gate, and sit down and relax for a bit. I grabbed a bottle of water and when I noticed people starting to line up in front of the gate, I thought, hey, that's not a terrible idea, I'll jump in line.
Bad. We're waiting there for about 15 minutes (still on time) when suddenly, right as we were supposed to start boarding, there was an announcement over the loud speaker that said that our flight had spontaneously changed gates. So everyone who had been waiting in line sprints down the hallway toward this other gate. I'm not even kidding. Literally running down the hallway, dodging past other travelers and magazine stands to get to the other gate. I get there like everyone else, a little winded, but totally wired for sound. And we wait. And wait. And wait. And by this point, I'm thinking, wow, that sandwich place looks really good right now. I'm hungry, but I ran all the way here, and of course the minute I get out of line, we'll start boarding. Instead I watched the two girls who were wearing I Puffi sweatshirts (awesome). Although that was a fascinating past-time, it was still another 20 minutes before we actually boarded. Which eventually made the plane late by that 20 minutes. Boo.
None the less, I made it to Paris and began my search for the mysterious Orlybus. The only major problem with that is that I don't read or speak French past the extreme basics. We're talking the kinds of things the colorful puppets say slowly in the teach-your-baby-French videos. That kind of basic. So after a brief search, I found the bus tickets right by the bus and got on. And other than the interesting choice of music (I didn't realize that the French would like Gloria Gaynor so much) I decided that regardless of my lack of language proficiency, "I Will Survive". (Get it? that was great). I get off at Denfert-Rochereau and there they were. Juliette and her mom. Perfect.
We hugged and it was just so strange to see someone who I used to be such good friends with. Crazy, but really fun. We then jumped on a series of trains to get to Juliette's grandmother's apartment. From about this moment on we began the necessary catching up. This involved everything from where are they now discussions to all of those nifty cultural differences that we discovered.
By the time we made it the apartment we were warmly greeted by her grandmother (she's so sweet, seriously) (s) and I was shown around the place. Couple of things: 1) It's huge! I thought that our apartment in the center of Rome was big, this is about a 5 minuted walk from the Eiffel Tower and it's probably twice the size of ours. 2) The bathroom is split over two rooms. Let me explain. In one room there is a shower and a sink, and down the hall (like a ways down the hall) there is the toilet and another sink. Fascinating? Yes. But everything about it was just so cozy and fun. It reminded me a lot of my cousin Bev and Don's (except the bathroom(s) wasn't (weren't) tiger themed. It was just that home feel with the piano in the corner and the old school chairs and the table cloth, it was lovely.
So we settled in, talked for a bit, and then sat down to a wonderful homemade dinner. Now the thing about Italy is that they LOVE to eat. And I don't take this lightly, they love the act of eating, of sitting down and enjoying every bit, every sip of wine, the conversation, the food, the atmosphere, everything. The French are a oui bit different. There is distinct point to the meal. There is still that love of food, but it's not about the experience, it's about having dinner. (This is such an abstract and random thing to describe to you, I'm doing my best, promise) For example, this three course meal would have 3 very different reaction in the US, Italy, and France.
US:
Family dinner, everyone is talking and kidding around. Kind of like Thanksgiving (I'm going to be craving turkey later this week) where the family gets together and talks about everything. I don't know about you, but my Thanksgiving dinners have people eating for just about an hour-an hour and a half then everyone watches football and waits for someone to cut into the pie.
Italy:
A 3 hour affair where there are at least 2 bottles of wine and everything is savored with the utmost deliberateness. There is probably some crazy storytelling and lots of hand waving.
France:
It felt like any regular family sit down dinner. Not the kind where the whole crew is involved, just the immediate family. You eat, you talk, you talk about the day-in three courses, but faster than the Italians would have.
We had this turkey with mushrooms and gravy with rice for the first course, a simple salad with an oil and vinegar dressing for course numero dos, and fruit and yogurt for the last one. It was wonderful to have a home cooked meal that I didn't have to cook.
Then, The Pezron family and I went out to see the Eiffel Tower by night. Magical? Oh ya you betcha! It was so incredible! Not only is it just a stunning piece of architecture (no one can argue that) but to see it lit up by night is just magical. I'm totally impressed. But the crowning jewel was when we went all the way up to the top. That's right, get out your Bucket List counters, because this is on there: Top of the Eiffel Tower by night. CHECK. You can literally see the entire city from up there. And all of the other monuments are so well lit that you can identify them and practically plan your next day based on what you see. And that's awesome.
After taking tons of pictures (I promise I'll get on that asap) we walked back home and pretty much immediately went to sleep. Successful day? Of course. And I couldn't ask for a better reunion. Especially when there are basically two more days of magic to cover.
But that report will probably have to happen tomorrow, I'm still recovering.
Set up: (a little bit of background so that you understand how wonderfully clever this is for a 3rd grader)
My class was in French class and our teacher wasn't yet there. So we are nicely sitting in the circle in this little room and someone asked, "Where did the French teacher go?"
Me: "She went out to take a breath of French air."
BAM. That's how funny winners are.
BAM. That's the air I was breathing all weekend. But for real. It was spectacular. I loved it.
So we'll start from the real beginning now. I packed all of my needed things for the weekend and made my way to the airport, full of excitement and the sense of adventure. Just like a little kid. The funny part of that is that I was going to meet up with a friend of mine I hadn't seen since the year after the birth of that beautiful joke you read above. That's a long time ago. And I couldn't believe that it was really and truly actually happening. So I get on the train to go to the airport. Watch this guy ask everyone in the train if it was going to the airport, then watched him get off at the wrong stop (unfortunate). Get there. Go through security (no they didn't search me), get to my gate, and sit down and relax for a bit. I grabbed a bottle of water and when I noticed people starting to line up in front of the gate, I thought, hey, that's not a terrible idea, I'll jump in line.
Bad. We're waiting there for about 15 minutes (still on time) when suddenly, right as we were supposed to start boarding, there was an announcement over the loud speaker that said that our flight had spontaneously changed gates. So everyone who had been waiting in line sprints down the hallway toward this other gate. I'm not even kidding. Literally running down the hallway, dodging past other travelers and magazine stands to get to the other gate. I get there like everyone else, a little winded, but totally wired for sound. And we wait. And wait. And wait. And by this point, I'm thinking, wow, that sandwich place looks really good right now. I'm hungry, but I ran all the way here, and of course the minute I get out of line, we'll start boarding. Instead I watched the two girls who were wearing I Puffi sweatshirts (awesome). Although that was a fascinating past-time, it was still another 20 minutes before we actually boarded. Which eventually made the plane late by that 20 minutes. Boo.
None the less, I made it to Paris and began my search for the mysterious Orlybus. The only major problem with that is that I don't read or speak French past the extreme basics. We're talking the kinds of things the colorful puppets say slowly in the teach-your-baby-French videos. That kind of basic. So after a brief search, I found the bus tickets right by the bus and got on. And other than the interesting choice of music (I didn't realize that the French would like Gloria Gaynor so much) I decided that regardless of my lack of language proficiency, "I Will Survive". (Get it? that was great). I get off at Denfert-Rochereau and there they were. Juliette and her mom. Perfect.
We hugged and it was just so strange to see someone who I used to be such good friends with. Crazy, but really fun. We then jumped on a series of trains to get to Juliette's grandmother's apartment. From about this moment on we began the necessary catching up. This involved everything from where are they now discussions to all of those nifty cultural differences that we discovered.
By the time we made it the apartment we were warmly greeted by her grandmother (she's so sweet, seriously) (s) and I was shown around the place. Couple of things: 1) It's huge! I thought that our apartment in the center of Rome was big, this is about a 5 minuted walk from the Eiffel Tower and it's probably twice the size of ours. 2) The bathroom is split over two rooms. Let me explain. In one room there is a shower and a sink, and down the hall (like a ways down the hall) there is the toilet and another sink. Fascinating? Yes. But everything about it was just so cozy and fun. It reminded me a lot of my cousin Bev and Don's (except the bathroom(s) wasn't (weren't) tiger themed. It was just that home feel with the piano in the corner and the old school chairs and the table cloth, it was lovely.
So we settled in, talked for a bit, and then sat down to a wonderful homemade dinner. Now the thing about Italy is that they LOVE to eat. And I don't take this lightly, they love the act of eating, of sitting down and enjoying every bit, every sip of wine, the conversation, the food, the atmosphere, everything. The French are a oui bit different. There is distinct point to the meal. There is still that love of food, but it's not about the experience, it's about having dinner. (This is such an abstract and random thing to describe to you, I'm doing my best, promise) For example, this three course meal would have 3 very different reaction in the US, Italy, and France.
US:
Family dinner, everyone is talking and kidding around. Kind of like Thanksgiving (I'm going to be craving turkey later this week) where the family gets together and talks about everything. I don't know about you, but my Thanksgiving dinners have people eating for just about an hour-an hour and a half then everyone watches football and waits for someone to cut into the pie.
Italy:
A 3 hour affair where there are at least 2 bottles of wine and everything is savored with the utmost deliberateness. There is probably some crazy storytelling and lots of hand waving.
France:
It felt like any regular family sit down dinner. Not the kind where the whole crew is involved, just the immediate family. You eat, you talk, you talk about the day-in three courses, but faster than the Italians would have.
We had this turkey with mushrooms and gravy with rice for the first course, a simple salad with an oil and vinegar dressing for course numero dos, and fruit and yogurt for the last one. It was wonderful to have a home cooked meal that I didn't have to cook.
Then, The Pezron family and I went out to see the Eiffel Tower by night. Magical? Oh ya you betcha! It was so incredible! Not only is it just a stunning piece of architecture (no one can argue that) but to see it lit up by night is just magical. I'm totally impressed. But the crowning jewel was when we went all the way up to the top. That's right, get out your Bucket List counters, because this is on there: Top of the Eiffel Tower by night. CHECK. You can literally see the entire city from up there. And all of the other monuments are so well lit that you can identify them and practically plan your next day based on what you see. And that's awesome.
After taking tons of pictures (I promise I'll get on that asap) we walked back home and pretty much immediately went to sleep. Successful day? Of course. And I couldn't ask for a better reunion. Especially when there are basically two more days of magic to cover.
But that report will probably have to happen tomorrow, I'm still recovering.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Airports rock
I'm alive! I have oodles to tell you about Paris, and the wonderful time I had with Juliette and family, but it is currently 12:36 am and I'm exhausted. Let's face it, spending an unnecessary 2 hours in an airport is just not as relaxing as it could have been. But, alas, I am home now, and before I start typing things that are unrelated, cow, or are misspelled, rowme, then I will go to bed.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Firenze! All for Art and Art for All!
If I were to write a blog post about my weekend it would go like this.
Art. Art art. Art art ART art. Art art art aRt ART-ART, art art art art art Art art art! Art art a-r-t, art art art, (art art, ART!) art art. Lunch. ART, art art art, tart, art art art art Art, art art art.... ART.
Ok, that's enough of that.
But that's really what happened. Not even a joke. So much art that at one point I thought that my head was going to explode, my eyes were going to pop out of my skull, and my feet were going to fall off. ALL AT THE SAME TIME. And it was wonderful.
Ok, so now I'm going to attempt to list all of the things/places that we went as a class to see. This will be difficult and it will be incomplete, I apologize in advance.
Day 1 (Friday)
Santa Maria Novella: (yep, waiting in line for this one was 11/11/11 11:11.)
Trinity-- Masaccio
Strozzi Chapel-- Filippino Lippi
Tornabuoni Chapel-- Domenico Ghirlandaio
Accademia
David--Michelangelo
The Prisoners--Michelangelo (my presentation. Boo-yah)
St. Matthew-- Yup, Michelangelo
Santa Trinita
Sassetti Chapel--Domenico Ghirlandaio
Ok, that was exhausting. But so worth it. Presentation out of the way, life is better. Then a group of us decided that we would all go out to dinner. Kelly had found this place that was on the other side of the river and it was absolutely delightful. I'm terribly sorry that I don't remember the name (I mean, I Remember the Name, but I don't know the name of this restaurant) but it was lovely. There were about 10 of us and we attempted half-sizes (a complete misnomer. Anything that comes in a bowl/plate twice the size of your head is not a half-size serving.) And everything was delicious. I personally had the ravioli with the walnut cream sauce, but I was also lucky enough to sample some traditional Florentine soup and the best gnocchi I think I've ever had (with truffle oil? yes please.)
After that we all walked back toward the Duomo (what a lovely landmark/meeting place, artistic and everything.) but separated back into our various parts of town where we were residing for the weekend. At that point I realized that I really needed something to do for the second round of 11/11/11 11:11. So I'm in Florence, I'm not attending the Bob Dylan concert like I had thought about (let's be real, how sweet would that be?)?), and I have no where to be/no one to see. So I sat in the Piazza Signoria for a bit and when that clock got closer, I pulled out three coins from my wallet and decided that the best way to celebrate this once in a life time occasion was to throw three coins in the fountain there. I hoped that it works like the Trevi Fountain works, you know, three coins and you return to [Rome] (or in this case, Florence). 11:11 hits and in went the coins to a very satisfying (and hopefully lucky) ker-plunk, and I instantly became the happiest person in the world! (ok, just kidding, but it was fun, and I enjoyed it.) Then back to the hostel for some shut-eye.
Art. Art art. Art art ART art. Art art art aRt ART-ART, art art art art art Art art art! Art art a-r-t, art art art, (art art, ART!) art art. Lunch. ART, art art art, tart, art art art art Art, art art art.... ART.
Ok, that's enough of that.
But that's really what happened. Not even a joke. So much art that at one point I thought that my head was going to explode, my eyes were going to pop out of my skull, and my feet were going to fall off. ALL AT THE SAME TIME. And it was wonderful.
Ok, so now I'm going to attempt to list all of the things/places that we went as a class to see. This will be difficult and it will be incomplete, I apologize in advance.
Day 1 (Friday)
Santa Maria Novella: (yep, waiting in line for this one was 11/11/11 11:11.)
Trinity-- Masaccio
Strozzi Chapel-- Filippino Lippi
Tornabuoni Chapel-- Domenico Ghirlandaio
Accademia
David--Michelangelo
The Prisoners--Michelangelo (my presentation. Boo-yah)
St. Matthew-- Yup, Michelangelo
Santa Trinita
Sassetti Chapel--Domenico Ghirlandaio
Ok, that was exhausting. But so worth it. Presentation out of the way, life is better. Then a group of us decided that we would all go out to dinner. Kelly had found this place that was on the other side of the river and it was absolutely delightful. I'm terribly sorry that I don't remember the name (I mean, I Remember the Name, but I don't know the name of this restaurant) but it was lovely. There were about 10 of us and we attempted half-sizes (a complete misnomer. Anything that comes in a bowl/plate twice the size of your head is not a half-size serving.) And everything was delicious. I personally had the ravioli with the walnut cream sauce, but I was also lucky enough to sample some traditional Florentine soup and the best gnocchi I think I've ever had (with truffle oil? yes please.)
After that we all walked back toward the Duomo (what a lovely landmark/meeting place, artistic and everything.) but separated back into our various parts of town where we were residing for the weekend. At that point I realized that I really needed something to do for the second round of 11/11/11 11:11. So I'm in Florence, I'm not attending the Bob Dylan concert like I had thought about (let's be real, how sweet would that be?)?), and I have no where to be/no one to see. So I sat in the Piazza Signoria for a bit and when that clock got closer, I pulled out three coins from my wallet and decided that the best way to celebrate this once in a life time occasion was to throw three coins in the fountain there. I hoped that it works like the Trevi Fountain works, you know, three coins and you return to [Rome] (or in this case, Florence). 11:11 hits and in went the coins to a very satisfying (and hopefully lucky) ker-plunk, and I instantly became the happiest person in the world! (ok, just kidding, but it was fun, and I enjoyed it.) Then back to the hostel for some shut-eye.
Day 2 (Saturday)
Bargello
Bacchus--Michelangelo
(Tondo) –Michelangelo
David --Donatello (Life. Made.)
Sacrifice of Isaac --Ghiberti and Brunelleschi (as the ‘audtion’ piece for the Baptistry Doors or Gates of Paradise)
Pitti Tondo-- Michelangelo
And two lions wearing crowns.
Lunch at a native bakery where I had to be able to recognize my number when it was said very quietly in a very loud bakery. I'm telling you it's a skill.
Uffizi
Freaking everything.
Primavera--Botticelli
Birth of Venus--Botticelli
Portrait of a Young Man Holding a Medici Medal-- Botticelli
Annunciation-- Botticelli
(Everything mentioned thus far in this heading is in one singular room)
Adoration of the Magi-- Leonardo da Vinci
Annunciation-- Leonardo da Vinci
Baptism of Christ--Verrocchio (and Leonardo, but it was only one angel)
Rest During Flight into Egypt --Correggio
Madonna and Child in Glory--Correggio
Adoration of the Child-- Correggio
Madonna of the Gold Finch--Raphael
Pope Leo X with Cardinals...--Raphael
Madonna of the Harpies-- Andrea del Sarto
And those are just the things we had presentations on. They forcibly kicked us out at 6:30. Literally dragged us from the premise, it's a wonder we weren't escorted by armed guards.
Then I had about an hour of trying to communicate with a guy at the cell phone store about how I had accidentally locked myself out of my phone and would love to get back in, but my Italian was almost as bad as his English, or so I assume, I used my Italian. Then out for a night with the girls. Tried Boar, had a lot of fun, if you really want to know the stories, you should ask me sometime. Things that happen in Florence.
Day 3 (Sunday)
Pitti Palace
Pallas and the Centaur-- Botticelli
Portrait of Agnolo-Doni-- Raphael (this is the cover of my text book for this class. How appropriate.)
David-- Verrocchio (That makes a complete set of Davids.)
And maybe a dozen other things we talked about, mentioned, or have seen before: Unfinished bust by Michelangelo, 3-4 other Raphael portraits, a Rubens (I don't remember the title now), and in passing maybe another 700 paintings on the walls there. It would literally take me years to get through the Pitti (and the Uffizi, let's be honest) giving each painting/work the study it deserves.
After lunch with the girls, I grabbed my bag and headed to the train station. Made it back home after speaking briefly with a Canadian family (cue anthem) and began writing this blog. Made some dinner, talked to the parentals, and now I'm calling it a night. Viva Firenze.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
How to pretend like you have friends, and they don't have to be imaginary.
This is a step by step instruction on how to get people to stare at you. To get people to NOT stare at you, you should not do these things. All very reasonable conclusions.
First, you should make sure that you have some kind of, I don't know, mannequin handy. Wait, the mannequin doesn't have to have hands, it just needs to be convenient. You could name it. That'd be fun. I happened to have one just sitting around the apartment, her name is Anne. Step one: Check!
Step two might include being crazy enough to say something kind of funny about going to take pictures with Anne, uh mannequin, in Rome. Wouldn't that just be a hoot? Oh yeah, you betcha! Step two: Complete.
And then you might want to make sure that your roommate who you mentioned step 2 to (tutu) is both enrolled in several photography classes, and is equally crazy enough to take you up on it. Got to love it. Step 3: That happened.
And then you would precede to then grab Anne by the waist, and walk out the door. This means taking a life size, hollow, humanoid inanimate object on public transportation, and through crowed streets. Step 4: DONE.
So if you follow these simple steps, you get looked at by people you don't know. If this sounds like your cup o tea, then do it. It's basically a blast. If you don't like these steps, you can also walk a very large dog. That'll work too.
I can tell you all of this because I completed steps 1-4 flawlessly. And consequently, Erica has lots of super snazzy pictures, and I got stared at a lot. Like, more than usual kind of a lot. (Yeah, and it's because I was carrying a mannequin, not because I look funny.) (Even I couldn't keep a straight face after that comment). And let me tell you, after being shoved in a corner and only occasionally mocked or referenced, Anne was loving the camera. Just working it like the inner diva she is. You go girl!
There was one point where Anne and I were leaning against a building while Erica was across the busy street taking pictures and there were tons of people walking by. And, due to Erica's artistic direction, I was kind of talking to Anne (bitch gave me the silent treatment) and people began to stop and look. Not just slow down to watch the crazy chick talk to her apparently traveling mannequin, but really stop. Granted, most of the time it was only for a few seconds, but it was more than enough to send me into a fit of laughter. So those were good times.
And other than that little escapade, I've been completely unproductive. LIES, I booked tickets to Edinburgh and Dublin. So Vanessa, Claire, Ava, and (pretty please, I'll have your first born) Kaitlin--Here we come! Well, in a few weeks. But still so close! Yay!
And that concludes the adventures that occur on All Saint's Day. No school, but you can make a fool of yourself in public instead. And tomorrow's going to feel like a Monday-round two.
First, you should make sure that you have some kind of, I don't know, mannequin handy. Wait, the mannequin doesn't have to have hands, it just needs to be convenient. You could name it. That'd be fun. I happened to have one just sitting around the apartment, her name is Anne. Step one: Check!
Step two might include being crazy enough to say something kind of funny about going to take pictures with Anne, uh mannequin, in Rome. Wouldn't that just be a hoot? Oh yeah, you betcha! Step two: Complete.
And then you might want to make sure that your roommate who you mentioned step 2 to (tutu) is both enrolled in several photography classes, and is equally crazy enough to take you up on it. Got to love it. Step 3: That happened.
And then you would precede to then grab Anne by the waist, and walk out the door. This means taking a life size, hollow, humanoid inanimate object on public transportation, and through crowed streets. Step 4: DONE.
So if you follow these simple steps, you get looked at by people you don't know. If this sounds like your cup o tea, then do it. It's basically a blast. If you don't like these steps, you can also walk a very large dog. That'll work too.
I can tell you all of this because I completed steps 1-4 flawlessly. And consequently, Erica has lots of super snazzy pictures, and I got stared at a lot. Like, more than usual kind of a lot. (Yeah, and it's because I was carrying a mannequin, not because I look funny.) (Even I couldn't keep a straight face after that comment). And let me tell you, after being shoved in a corner and only occasionally mocked or referenced, Anne was loving the camera. Just working it like the inner diva she is. You go girl!
There was one point where Anne and I were leaning against a building while Erica was across the busy street taking pictures and there were tons of people walking by. And, due to Erica's artistic direction, I was kind of talking to Anne (bitch gave me the silent treatment) and people began to stop and look. Not just slow down to watch the crazy chick talk to her apparently traveling mannequin, but really stop. Granted, most of the time it was only for a few seconds, but it was more than enough to send me into a fit of laughter. So those were good times.
And other than that little escapade, I've been completely unproductive. LIES, I booked tickets to Edinburgh and Dublin. So Vanessa, Claire, Ava, and (pretty please, I'll have your first born) Kaitlin--Here we come! Well, in a few weeks. But still so close! Yay!
And that concludes the adventures that occur on All Saint's Day. No school, but you can make a fool of yourself in public instead. And tomorrow's going to feel like a Monday-round two.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Rose Nylund never had anything bad to say about Herringbone patterns--Florence (part 1)
Hello friends! Or should I say "Hello Firenze!" They sound about the same in some accents. It's been a long time and this is going to be a long post. So sit up, pay attention, and have some sort of delicious beverage of choice nearby.
Wake up in the morning feeling like it's very early-because it is. We were planning to take the 7:58am train to Termini (a station in Rome that has a lot of connections). So at about 6, I forced myself to roll out of bed and pretend like it was a doable time of morning. And all I could really think about was, that I'm going to be late to the tournament. Let's face it speechies, we get up early for tournaments. and 6am is not that early. In fact, if you're getting up at 6, you're going to be late. So I did some dishes, packed some stuff, put some clothes on, and put on a thing of coffee. After we were all up (some more excitedly than others) we downed some coffee and ran out the door with bags over shoulders, laughter, and old school rap lyrics being tossed around the sidewalk as we made our way tot he first train station of the day.
Fast forward to post ticket purchasing, we make our way on to the train. For this short ride, we didn't do too much. But once we arrived at Termini, we had to walk down the entire length of the train station until we finally found another counter to purchase our tickets to Firenze. We then waited for a little bit before hopping on the last train of the day. This two hour ride left some sleepy, others well read, and still some others smelling gum. But you know, all in a day's work. Once we made it to Florence, we jumped off the train and dragged our luggage all the way to the hostel we were going to be staying at for the night.
In the process of finding the hostel, we passed through the Piazza del Duomo. Let's talk about this for a moment. So much time is spent giving credit to Brunelleschi for his Duomo, and rightly so (that to be covered later) but the entire square is vibrant and rich in colors, architecture, and Asian tourists. If you don't think that sounds like a winning place to be, then you're no fun. It's stunning. The facade of the entire cathedral is brilliantly patterned and ornate and automatically draws you toward it before you even realize your feet are moving. Fighting against the impulse to run up and hug the entire building, we finally made our way to the hostel, dropped off our bags, asked some questions from the proprietors and decided to grab a snack before attempting the biggest adventure for the day: Climbing the Duomo.
Hostel: Check. Snack: Check. Caffeine: Check.
To the Duomo. Cupola or bust.
Now to get to the top of the Duomo, there are some tasks. The first one is to wait in line and take pictures of other tacky tourists in floral prints and eating gelato. The second is to pay 8 euros for a ticket. Then: the stairs. And there are a lot of them. 463... ish..... So jump on in and get those legs to pumping. At first you're walking along thinking, hey, these are pretty nice stairs. Not a really tight spiral, almost square shaped. Sweet. Dobedobedo. Tralalala-hey look a window! That's cool. Keep going, platform. At this point you being to realize that you really did pay 8 euros to climb 463 steps. All of them. And that some people are not taking that investment seriously. Some people have seen the road less traveled and turned around to go back the way they came. They have a word for those kinds of people, they are called: Wimps. Only the strong survive this.
Eventually you make it all the way to the edge around the actual dome. This part is hard to describe in words. But there's a last ring before you start walking inside the actual dome, like the curved part with the burnt orange roof. Since you are inside the cathedral, you are basically walking along the molding that marks the difference between the wall and the ceiling. The walls have giant stained glass windows that are just out of reach at this point, and the ceiling has an enormous fresco of the Last Judgment. When you are literally standing at the foot of some of these demons, they are unrecognizable, but looking across the way, everything looks well thought out and proportional. It's fantastic.
From this point you actually have to start climbing inside the dome. This involves very VERY narrow passageways that also much double as a two lane road. That part is tricky. There are parts where the only way back down is the way you got there in the first place, and there is still this giant string of people making their way up to the top. So basically if you are at all claustrophobic, it's rough going. I'm now going to have an art history nerd moment. Thanks to Mr. Luce making our class read that "Brunelleschi's Dome" book, I was acutely aware of the herringbone brick pattern and the alternating ring and rib structural supports. And although I was ogling and babbling, there were still stairs to climb-which got progressively steeper. So huffing and puffing we made it all the way to the top to see the most beautiful view you could possibly ask for.
Tangent time. Art history books spend pages upon pages describing the intimate detail of the building, the architecture, the artist, the years and the stylistic points of each thing. But nothing, let me rephrase, NOTHING compares to actually being there. To walk the steps, to feel the walls, to notice the little things like the mortar, the bricks, the dips in the stairs from all of the people walking up and down them for hundreds of years. This is culture. And once you read all of that material (cough, not very exciting Brunelleschi book, cough) everything comes flooding back when you're actually there. So, props Mr. Luce for making me read that entire thing. I remembered a lot more than I thought I would. (Side note for those of you who survived that 2 week discussion with me: THERE'S AN OX HOIST. This is real life.)
So after taking ample pictures at the top of the Duomo, speaking to some British people (if KBG doesn't come back with a British accent, we gonna have some problems) and generally enjoying the view, we made our way back down the 463 steps without breaking anything (either personal or historical). We then made our sweaty way to Santa Croce to a wonderful little restaurant on the piazza. It was absolutely delicious. Pesto Lasagna? Yes please. I think I'll have 7. And 8 slices of cake. Thanks.
After that luxurious lunch we finally worked up the shaky-legged strength to make our leisurely way toward the Accademia. For those of you who don't know why this is such a fantastic place, it's because of The David. Yes, that David. Michelangelo's David. And (probably less famous) several of Michelangelo's later works like "Dying Slave" and the late "Pieta". *shiver* SO GOOD. All of it. There were some other smaller galleries too, very early Renaissance alter pieces, and another sculpture exhibit. Once again, those pretty pictures in art books don't do much justice to the works themselves.
We then shopped our way back to the hostel where we rinsed off (walking up lots of steps takes effort and hydration). Rested for a bit, then got ready to go out to dinner at a Mexican place. Now before you start judging us about going to a Mexican restaurant in Florence, let me just list some facts for you to digest: Fact-Mexican food is delicious. Fact-It's hard to find Mexican food in Italy (and I assume many other parts of Europe). Fact- We've been here for almost a month and haven't had any Mexican, thus going through with drawl. So although it wasn't the best Mexican in the world, it was attempt to fix the fix. Then back to the hostel for some well deserved sleep. Winner.
This is very long. I'm going to consider this part one, and the next one part two. It's like a chapter book.
Wake up in the morning feeling like it's very early-because it is. We were planning to take the 7:58am train to Termini (a station in Rome that has a lot of connections). So at about 6, I forced myself to roll out of bed and pretend like it was a doable time of morning. And all I could really think about was, that I'm going to be late to the tournament. Let's face it speechies, we get up early for tournaments. and 6am is not that early. In fact, if you're getting up at 6, you're going to be late. So I did some dishes, packed some stuff, put some clothes on, and put on a thing of coffee. After we were all up (some more excitedly than others) we downed some coffee and ran out the door with bags over shoulders, laughter, and old school rap lyrics being tossed around the sidewalk as we made our way tot he first train station of the day.
Fast forward to post ticket purchasing, we make our way on to the train. For this short ride, we didn't do too much. But once we arrived at Termini, we had to walk down the entire length of the train station until we finally found another counter to purchase our tickets to Firenze. We then waited for a little bit before hopping on the last train of the day. This two hour ride left some sleepy, others well read, and still some others smelling gum. But you know, all in a day's work. Once we made it to Florence, we jumped off the train and dragged our luggage all the way to the hostel we were going to be staying at for the night.
In the process of finding the hostel, we passed through the Piazza del Duomo. Let's talk about this for a moment. So much time is spent giving credit to Brunelleschi for his Duomo, and rightly so (that to be covered later) but the entire square is vibrant and rich in colors, architecture, and Asian tourists. If you don't think that sounds like a winning place to be, then you're no fun. It's stunning. The facade of the entire cathedral is brilliantly patterned and ornate and automatically draws you toward it before you even realize your feet are moving. Fighting against the impulse to run up and hug the entire building, we finally made our way to the hostel, dropped off our bags, asked some questions from the proprietors and decided to grab a snack before attempting the biggest adventure for the day: Climbing the Duomo.
Hostel: Check. Snack: Check. Caffeine: Check.
To the Duomo. Cupola or bust.
Now to get to the top of the Duomo, there are some tasks. The first one is to wait in line and take pictures of other tacky tourists in floral prints and eating gelato. The second is to pay 8 euros for a ticket. Then: the stairs. And there are a lot of them. 463... ish..... So jump on in and get those legs to pumping. At first you're walking along thinking, hey, these are pretty nice stairs. Not a really tight spiral, almost square shaped. Sweet. Dobedobedo. Tralalala-hey look a window! That's cool. Keep going, platform. At this point you being to realize that you really did pay 8 euros to climb 463 steps. All of them. And that some people are not taking that investment seriously. Some people have seen the road less traveled and turned around to go back the way they came. They have a word for those kinds of people, they are called: Wimps. Only the strong survive this.
Eventually you make it all the way to the edge around the actual dome. This part is hard to describe in words. But there's a last ring before you start walking inside the actual dome, like the curved part with the burnt orange roof. Since you are inside the cathedral, you are basically walking along the molding that marks the difference between the wall and the ceiling. The walls have giant stained glass windows that are just out of reach at this point, and the ceiling has an enormous fresco of the Last Judgment. When you are literally standing at the foot of some of these demons, they are unrecognizable, but looking across the way, everything looks well thought out and proportional. It's fantastic.
From this point you actually have to start climbing inside the dome. This involves very VERY narrow passageways that also much double as a two lane road. That part is tricky. There are parts where the only way back down is the way you got there in the first place, and there is still this giant string of people making their way up to the top. So basically if you are at all claustrophobic, it's rough going. I'm now going to have an art history nerd moment. Thanks to Mr. Luce making our class read that "Brunelleschi's Dome" book, I was acutely aware of the herringbone brick pattern and the alternating ring and rib structural supports. And although I was ogling and babbling, there were still stairs to climb-which got progressively steeper. So huffing and puffing we made it all the way to the top to see the most beautiful view you could possibly ask for.
Tangent time. Art history books spend pages upon pages describing the intimate detail of the building, the architecture, the artist, the years and the stylistic points of each thing. But nothing, let me rephrase, NOTHING compares to actually being there. To walk the steps, to feel the walls, to notice the little things like the mortar, the bricks, the dips in the stairs from all of the people walking up and down them for hundreds of years. This is culture. And once you read all of that material (cough, not very exciting Brunelleschi book, cough) everything comes flooding back when you're actually there. So, props Mr. Luce for making me read that entire thing. I remembered a lot more than I thought I would. (Side note for those of you who survived that 2 week discussion with me: THERE'S AN OX HOIST. This is real life.)
So after taking ample pictures at the top of the Duomo, speaking to some British people (if KBG doesn't come back with a British accent, we gonna have some problems) and generally enjoying the view, we made our way back down the 463 steps without breaking anything (either personal or historical). We then made our sweaty way to Santa Croce to a wonderful little restaurant on the piazza. It was absolutely delicious. Pesto Lasagna? Yes please. I think I'll have 7. And 8 slices of cake. Thanks.
After that luxurious lunch we finally worked up the shaky-legged strength to make our leisurely way toward the Accademia. For those of you who don't know why this is such a fantastic place, it's because of The David. Yes, that David. Michelangelo's David. And (probably less famous) several of Michelangelo's later works like "Dying Slave" and the late "Pieta". *shiver* SO GOOD. All of it. There were some other smaller galleries too, very early Renaissance alter pieces, and another sculpture exhibit. Once again, those pretty pictures in art books don't do much justice to the works themselves.
We then shopped our way back to the hostel where we rinsed off (walking up lots of steps takes effort and hydration). Rested for a bit, then got ready to go out to dinner at a Mexican place. Now before you start judging us about going to a Mexican restaurant in Florence, let me just list some facts for you to digest: Fact-Mexican food is delicious. Fact-It's hard to find Mexican food in Italy (and I assume many other parts of Europe). Fact- We've been here for almost a month and haven't had any Mexican, thus going through with drawl. So although it wasn't the best Mexican in the world, it was attempt to fix the fix. Then back to the hostel for some well deserved sleep. Winner.
This is very long. I'm going to consider this part one, and the next one part two. It's like a chapter book.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Because John Denver Wanted it That Way
If that title was too much of a music mismatch for you, you can forget about it. It's ok. I'll beat you later.
So my bags aren't quite packed. I'm mostly ready to go. I'm still in my apartment (not standing outside anyone else's that's for sure) and I'm still awake to say good bye to you. You all have been such loyal readers, that I just had to lose another 30 minutes of sleep to let you know what's up and what's going on. Don't you feel special? You should. You are special. I'll just echo whatever your mother told you on that front.
The plan: Go to Florence.
Why: Because it looks awesome.
When: Tomorrow morning at a very early hour.
Who: Us. That means myself and 3 other fantastic individuals.
What: See the above four points
Where: Haven't you been paying attention?
Now that you read that twice, I'll continue. Thanks to Sam and Laura (two delightful friends of mine who both studied in Florence this time last year. Sam: My thumbs need to be popped. Laura: I actually burnt my finger today. I miss you so much. I just wish that the burn spelled out 53 instead of a blob.) (It's really strange to think that I can reference both of them off hand.) (PUN) I have had this immense desire to go to Florence and see all sorts of beautiful things. Their influence coupled with the fact that my Italian High Renaissance professor talked about all of the beautiful things in the Uffizi Gallery for three hours on Wednesday. So I'm leaving. And I'll be back after I've learned some more stuff.
That's where you come in. I've attempted to be very diligent about updating this blog every day, but alas, I won't be bringing this whole laptop shabang with me. So I'll take notes, have an incredibly long and potentially rambling (blog title? what?) post on Saturday night/Sunday.
I love you all, I'm so glad you're keeping up with this. You make me happy.
So my bags aren't quite packed. I'm mostly ready to go. I'm still in my apartment (not standing outside anyone else's that's for sure) and I'm still awake to say good bye to you. You all have been such loyal readers, that I just had to lose another 30 minutes of sleep to let you know what's up and what's going on. Don't you feel special? You should. You are special. I'll just echo whatever your mother told you on that front.
The plan: Go to Florence.
Why: Because it looks awesome.
When: Tomorrow morning at a very early hour.
Who: Us. That means myself and 3 other fantastic individuals.
What: See the above four points
Where: Haven't you been paying attention?
Now that you read that twice, I'll continue. Thanks to Sam and Laura (two delightful friends of mine who both studied in Florence this time last year. Sam: My thumbs need to be popped. Laura: I actually burnt my finger today. I miss you so much. I just wish that the burn spelled out 53 instead of a blob.) (It's really strange to think that I can reference both of them off hand.) (PUN) I have had this immense desire to go to Florence and see all sorts of beautiful things. Their influence coupled with the fact that my Italian High Renaissance professor talked about all of the beautiful things in the Uffizi Gallery for three hours on Wednesday. So I'm leaving. And I'll be back after I've learned some more stuff.
That's where you come in. I've attempted to be very diligent about updating this blog every day, but alas, I won't be bringing this whole laptop shabang with me. So I'll take notes, have an incredibly long and potentially rambling (blog title? what?) post on Saturday night/Sunday.
I love you all, I'm so glad you're keeping up with this. You make me happy.
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