Spagna

I promised myself I wouldn't be emo in this blog. WOOPS!!!! Can't stop the angst. I have something to be emo about right now but I'm going to refrain ((and inside my heart will bleed T_T)).

So let's talk about SPAIN! Time to bust out my handy-dandy...notebook! Well, journal. But that isn't in keeping with the Blues Clues reference that I'm sure you all got immediately. I kept a journal diligently throughout all 11 days of our journey. This post gon' be HUGE. But I have nothing better to do right now.

Day 1, March 31, 2010. Commence spring break. Packed in the morning. Managed to stuff 11 days' worth of clothes...er, more like 8 or 9 actually...into my rather small never-before-used suitcase (my mom brought it out for some reason when she came in October). Each time I closed the zipper--and it seemed to get harder and harder to do throughout the trip--I was in awe. At the same time, my suitcase seemed to get lighter and lighter throughout the trip. Probably because my muscles were expanding to fit my new body-builder physique. Anyways we took a bus, a train, a plane, and a taxi in order to get to Barcelona. Not without issues, however. Bus: late. Train: we thought we had missed it, but our desperate and very public sprint across the station turned out to be for naught. Plane: Also late. By about an hour. So all 8 of us from the Smith group going to Barcelona sat around, talking and eating Christine's food until it finally came. Good ol' Ryanair. The flight was frickin' TURBULENT and I kind of screamed at one point. When we got to Barcelona it was extremely late so we decided against trying to walk to our unfamiliar hostel in an unfamiliar city in the unfamiliar dark. And got a taxi. And I spoke in Spanish for the first time (just "gracias"). The hostel turned out to be part of a fancy-looking apartment so it came as a bit of a surprise that the hostel was....not so fancy. In my journal I have "HOOO boy what an experience." We didn't get the warmest of receptions from the man at the desk (it was 1 AM but still...). He told us stuff and brought us to our room. Our room, and 7 other peoples'. Now this was something new to me. The light was on, people (strangers who I tried to smile at given that we had been forced into the most private of settings together) were in bed sleeping or reading. The man gave us our sheets. Everything we did made rustling sounds that I was very aware of. Funny story about the sheets. Didn't fit. I tried a few different ways but instantly resigned to the fact that no, it would never work. Camilla's bed looked like a hammock or one of those inflatable pool beds, with the edges bent up. I just left one corner of mine off. It was NBD. The pillow case was even more ruthlessly absurd. The pillow was a geometrically perfect square, the case was as long and skinny as...I dunno, a pipe. A garden snake. The snake metaphor is good because it looked like it had just swallowed a small animal when I got it in. Miraculously it wasn't uncomfortable. At about 2 when we had gotten ready for bed (and I dried my face with my shirt due to lack of towel) a German dude said "Gute nacht" and turned off the lights. Wish I could say I slept like a baby after a long day of traveling. False. I got no more than 3 hours of sleep. Due mostly to the sounds of snoring and phones ringing and me being the lightest sleeper in the world (WHY I didn't remember to put in my earplugs I do not know). I heard some Italian guys talking about me in the bathroom ("capelli rossi"...red hair...obviously I was the only redhead in the hostel, if not the city). But my FAVORITE part was when a group of Americans (of course) came in at some ungodly hour. "Dude did you just get back?" "Pretty much yeah." "Oh she's puking." etc etc. Very unlike me, I didn't feel desperately frustrated to the point of misery, instead taking it as "the typical hostel experience." Ironically this would be the most "typically hostel" night of the ENTIRE TRIP. haha.

Day 2, April 1, 2010. The first thing we did in Barcelona was go to Starbucks. hahaha I know it sounds bad, but neither of us had been to a Starbucks in Italy or in America in a very long time. Neither of us had had breakfast, either. So I got my usual caramel frappaccino and it was WELL worth it. Also I was struck by how friendly the girl behind the counter was. We were off to a good start. We then went to the Museum of Modern Art. Part of the exterior resembled a roll of toilet paper. The inside was starkly white and full of sunlight. In my journal I have "It was cool but weird but cool but we were exhausted." Normally I'm not a huge fan of modern art. Normally it makes me scoff. You should NEVER be able to say "a blind 3-year-old could do that" about a piece of art, say I. Camilla and I were in agreement, especially when we came to a shirt in a box that was on display. What the HELL. There was a lot of bizarre stuff in there, and after a while we were just too tired to pretend to be enjoying it. But I guess it was kind of cool just in that it was so different from all the Renaissance art we have in Italy. After that we had some mediocre empanadas in a tiny place for lunch. Then we walked down the famous La Rambla, where approximately 600,000 animals were being sold. It was some weeeeird outdoor pet store. There were many bunnies (!!!!!), hamsters, turtles, mice, and, my personal favorite, PIGEONS. Pigeons. Come on, really?! Because you couldn't just capture one from the street if you really wanted one? I said to Camilla, "I think some have escaped." Then there was a variety of street performers and the soon-to-be ever-present whistle-vendors. They're these whistles that you can't see when they're in your mouth that make very realistic tropical bird sounds. Popular in Spain, apparently. And oh I can see why, they're not annoying at ALL!! So La Rambla was the most bizarrely happenin' street I've ever walked upon. At the end we found the sea. We crossed the bridge (designed to imitate a wave--just the beginning of an abundance of fantastic architecture in that city). There we found a HUGE movie theater, a HAAGEN-DAZS (I was extremely. extremely tempted to purchase), and an aquarium. All of these things lead to me writing "Barcelona is owning Florence." I loved it because it was modern, clean, and impressively well-structured. It had it together. We kept just walking, and we found an important cathedral that, of course, was under construction. And, like the aquarium, too expensive to go inside. Then we were kind of cranky so we went back to the hostel and read/slept. We asked the man at the desk (a different, nice one) where the nearest grocery store was so we could get foodstuffs. Never have I been to a grocery store so grand. The entire city of Barcelona was shopping there at that moment. The place had ESCALATORS, that's how huge it was. I dunno, this was impressive to me. I am often dazed by food. Back at the hostel we made dinner--luxurious soup, salad, bread. Afterwords we asked the man if he had any suggestions for a chill place to chill and he recommended a tea place. (While we were asking the German dude from our room invited us to a couch-surfing meeting...I'm sure that would've been awesome times). So we found the place and we felt extremely classy. We sat on pillows (I think...there should have been pillows).The waiter was a real character. He was consistently hilarious. And yet annoying. Before, after, and during our tea (I got apple cinnamon-flavored tea. He came with a box of tea-filled vials and we got to pick) there was this ongoing commentary about how Camilla was doing all the talking and how she needed to shut up so I could speak because "she can speak! let her speak!" and so he'd ask me questions and it was just generally weird and awkward but in a dumb funny way. We got politely kicked out at 11 or 12 or whenever it closed and he gave me some inspirational (and IRRITATING) words of wisdom before parting. He told me to be loud, to yell right then and there, because "shyness won't get you anywhere in life." I was like "thank you! I'll take your advice." and punched my fist into the air and marched triumphantly out the door, onward into my BRIGHT FUTURE THAT AWAITS!! THANKS, TEA MAN!

Day 3, April 2, 2010. The earplugs my uncle gave my mom, and that my mom gave to me, are UNBELIEVABLE. I owe my well-being to them. After breakfast (we got yummy Spanish Special-K with red berries) and directions from the hostel lady, we made our way to the Guell Park. I honestly had never heard of it before. But I'll tell you this: it is the BEST park in the world. And I don't have to see all the other parks in the world to know this. It reminded me of so many wonderful things: Candy Land, the Jungle Book, Roller Coaster Tycoon, dinosaurs. Gaudi's fantasy world was like an amusement park without the rides. We ate the sandwiches we had brought on a bench in the designated picnic area with tree flowers and the sound of several musicians/bands draped around us. It was a stunningly gorgeous day. I got a sunburn so bad that the hostel man asked me if it HURT later that night. But it was worth it. We explored the whole place: the famous mosaic bench curling around the perimeter of the largest open plaza area upon which all 600,000 people were trying to sit, the strange little mound with a cross on top that continually drew people up (and from a distance it looked like ants on a Christian anthill), and, of course, the bumpy-columned tunnel through which CariDee and Melrose from America's Next Top Model Cycle 7 walked the final runway challenge as vampire brides. Despite the 600,000 people, not one of them annoyed me. This is rare for me. No one was rude. Or if they were I didn't notice. So after that we made our way to another of Gaudi's masterpieces: La Sagrada Familia. It was amazing to see a cathedral so UN-cathedral-y. Completely unique and inspiring. How often do you see colors other than brown and gray in a church's exterior? But of course it was under construction too. And waaaaaay too expensive to go in. But we found a part that you could enter for free, and it was much better this way because we accidentally stumbled upon the tomb of Gaudi himself. We sat for a while in the chapel, then headed to the cool-looking hospital that Camilla wanted to see. I could not physically move my feet any longer by the time we got there so I NEEDED a hospital. Back at the hostel Camilla got a text from our friend Emily, who was also in Barcelona (12 of the 20 Smith girls would be in Barcelona at some point that break), asking us if we wanted to meet for dinner. So we met her and her two friends for dinner. Or, a quest for tapas. It was pretty good! We all got different things and shared. Such is the tapas tradition. We then wanted to find dessert. We were detained for about a half hour as a result of a RELIGIOUS PROCESSION, complete with huge elaborate Jesus and Mary floats (deeeefinitely the wrong, and inappropriate, word) and black pointy hats and robes and music. The place we wanted to go to was literally 10 steps diagonally across the street but a police officer wouldn't let anyone through until the procession had gone by. It was hilarious. But no it really was an interesting cultural thing to witness. It was Good Friday, after all. At the dessert place I got ice cream. Ice cream IN hot chocolate. Dulce de leche ice cream. Best idea ever? Yes. Then we wanted to see flamenco dancing but we got there just a few minutes too late. Dang it. So we called it a night. Back at the hostel apparently the people in our room were all born with some sort of special eyelids that makes them completely oblivious to 4 sets of fluorescent lights blaring into their face. I didn't want to be the one to turn off the light. But by the time it was 2:30 I had had QUITE enough of suppressing screams of frustration under my covers, so I got up, crept across the room, took a deep breath and slowly extended a shaking hand 1 centimeter above a girl's head to hit the switch. I muttered "Was that REALLY that hard" under my breath before getting back into bed. JEESH.

Opera

When I was no more than 4 years old I was sitting on the blue ridged couch in my grandparents' Japanese-inspired living room in Rockport, Massachusetts. O Mio Babbino Caro from Madame Butterfly was playing on the stereo. I have this memory of just sitting there and crying. And my mom asked me what was wrong and I didn't want to say it was because the song was so heart-wrenchingly beautiful. But it is. And this is why I love opera.



SO WHY CAN'T I WRITE MY PAPER ON IT.




In other news: my family was supposed to come visit me this week. Now, they can't. Because of that GODFORSAKEN volcano Eykjalkliuowlijfadsklmkgjhnlkuawejdszmk. Two nights ago I had a dream I was hugging them and I woke up with tears in my eyes. Just as long as they come at some point though it's ok. But now I do feel ready to go home.

Giacca di Pelle

I bought a leather jacket.

At any other point in my life the idea of me wearing a leather jacket would make me (or anyone else who knows me) howl with laughter. But you better believe I ROCK this jacket. Is it wrong to love an inanimate object? I have never loved an article of clothing more. Not even my prom dress. The process of getting it was quite memorable. I had never really experienced the joy of Italian store owners until then. In il mercato di San Lorenzo, the main shopping area of Florence, there are leather stores and stands lining the streets in every direction. As many stores and stands devoted to leather products as Venice has devoted to masks. (I realize I never wrote about Carnevale...basically all the Smithies went to Venice the last Saturday of Carnevale and it was incredible, the city and the costumes and the 900,000 people. I'll never forget it). Camilla, Sophie and I ended up spending about 3 hours in the quest for the leather jacket. I am eternally grateful for their patience. The first store was without a doubt the most hilarious. For it is there that we met Lapo, the wildly attentive and cheery Italian man. He introduced himself and asked our names, complimenting each of us in some way immediately. I don't know WHAT he was trying to say about me--his English was not perfect, but he wanted to practice, as he told us--but it was something so nice he couldn't form a coherent sentence. It was just NONSTOP amusing comment after amusing comment from then on. I tried on three jackets, all of which he picked out without any indication from me. Every time I tried on a new one he took it upon himself to free my hair. Slightly awkward but it was more funny than creepy. I tried on this dark greenish one and he pretended to be speechless and said I needed to model it for his website and "we make lots of money." His worship-like behavior succeeded in brainwashing me and I'm glad Sophie and Camilla told him we were gonna keep looking. It was our first store, after all. Still I felt bad leaving good ol' Lapo, especially because he thought he had scared us away. He said, "Now I want you to tell me, honestly, since we probably don't see each other again. What I do, is it too much? Do I scare the people away? I try to make the ladies laugh so they feel comfortable but really, tell me, am I too much?" We assured him that this was most untrue. Don't you change, Lapo!

All the others were just not nearly as nice or...unique...as Lapo. They call out to you to get you to come in their stores and if you stop for a second they WILL get you to come in. Some of them were just too aggressive and unfriendly, like this one man who was trying to sell us his finest "bork" jacket. Bork, as in "pork", as in pig skin. But yeah no, how much is the pork chop with rosemary jacket sir? Do you also have veal jackets? Sirloin? Oh I could go all day with these hysterical jokes.

I had awkwardly tried on about 88 jackets until we came to a store whose owner was almost as animated as Lapo. He found me a jacket that I was finally excited about when I put it on. (Obviously he was too). So, I decided to buy it. I winced a little giving him my debit card...my bank account took a blow I could feel across the Atlantic but it was the best purchase of my life. Florence, leather capital of Italy, leather capital of the world. I had to do it! I wore it the next day and I felt extremely conspicuous but slowly, as the leather is stretching to fit my exact body shape as the man assured me it would after one week of use, I am getting used to myself in it. In fact, I love it.

Sicilia

January 31 - February 6, 2010 may now be one of my favorite time frames of my life. This to say yes, I loved Sicily, and I now hold the belief that every human being must see it before they die. It was the most uniquely beautiful place I've seen in my life, and I've seen a lot of beautiful places. I really can't describe it better than pictures can...I assume most of you are my facebook friends and can see my albums. When I was still passionately involved with my xanga back in the day I used to write these MASSIVE posts after I went on vacations, describing every detail. Because I essentially had no life. I have more of a life now but I'm still gonna do it.

A taxi came at 11:30 on Sunday morning to take us and 2 other Smith girls to the airport. A few hours later we were in Catania, where a coach bus was awaiting us outside the airport. We had the bus for the week. We would soon call it "the discobus" thanks to our awesome and super silly driver, Gianni, who liked to blast disco hits (also middle school music and cringe-worthy 80's ballades) as we drove along, sometimes flicking the lights to the beat. The bus was definitely one of the best parts of the trip. When my entire family went to Ireland for a week when I was in eighth grade to celebrate my grandparents' 50th anniversary we also had a bus and an awesome driver, Denis, who we bonded with. So it reminded me of that. And Giovanna reminded me more of my Aunt Lynne--they are both exuberant and caring and want to pack as many activities into the day as possible. And they both have red hair. Awesomeness factor increased. Anyways, it was about a 3 hour bus ride to Palermo, where we would be spending the first 3 nights. What we saw passing by the windows (AND THE PIT-STOP FOR FOOD WHERE I FOUND CRISPY M&MS, MY FAVORITE M&M OF ALL TIME THAT IS NO LONGER PRODUCED IN AMERICA) is what made me realize the trip was going to be amazing.

I had never seen such ancient enormous rocks. Or such intense, practically neon greens or such tall and jagged cliffs or such blues of the ocean or such adorable box-shaped colorful houses scattered on hills. At one point Camilla said, "I feel like we're in the Shire." I said, "Aye, Mr. Frodo." No I don't think I actually did but I should have. No, what I did say was, "My mom would love you right now" because she is absolutely obsessed with Lord of the Rings. Crap now I want to watch it. Moving on. We arrived in Palermo and were on our own for dinner. Camilla, Emily, Sophie and I (I was rooming with Sophie and Camilla was rooming with Emily) went on a quest for dinner. We finally found it, the holy grail: Fratelli La Bufala. Buffalo Brothers. Basically everything on the menu featured either buffalo cheese, buffalo meat, or whatever else you can make with buffaloes. I got perhaps the best pizza I had had in Italy so far and then the waiter decided what we should get for dessert: a "buffalo ball" and buffalo cheesecake (obviously made with buffalo cheese). The buffalo ball was like a profiterole I think. In any case, it was a delicious start to the vacation and we were grateful for the majestic creature that is the buffalo.

May I just say that all the hotel breakfasts and hotel showers were SPECTACULAR. That is all. So the next day we went to the famous Monreale cathedral. It was ancient and damaged on the outside, the most beautiful building (not just church) I had ever seen on the inside. It was enormous and not a single surface was devoid of unthinkably detailed gold/bejeweled mosaics. We also climbed to the top, where there were stunning views of the seaside city illuminated by sun streams. We spent a long time inside, and could have spent more. Then we went to the University of Palermo where we were compelled to mingle with the English students (er, they were Italian students studying English) in a lunch-mixer thing. After much awkward tension, a group of 4 girls came up to us to talk and we ended up exchanging numbers with them. Obviously never saw them again. They were nice though. It got pretty rainy and dreary after that, so we decided to lighten our spirits by going to the CATACOMBS! It was hilarious because at first everyone was like "awesome yeah cool ok let's go!" Then we got in and saw actual dead mutilated skinless gray corpses with rotting torn rags and jaws askew dangling endlessly in rows down endless dark dusty hallways in some sort of nightmare. And changed our minds. I seriously had to resist the urge to just break into a dash for the exit...I could feel the edge of panic mode creeping. It was truly disturbing. And yet...could not...look away....

So! Then we had 3 hours to kill before dinner so we watched Shaun of the Dead which I told Camilla to bring. Zombies were an appropriate theme. We had a group dinner at a nearby restaurant. Honestly I was kind of disappointed...I'm starting to feel like I have some ridiculously refined palate here. I was REALLY looking forward to fish (pisci spada = swordfish) because I love it and we never get it here. But it was chewy, flavorless and drowned in oil. Also I was absolutely exhausted and was about ready to fall face-first into my plate.

The next day we had a tour of Palermo with the very nice and engaging professor we had met yesterday at the University. We saw more amazing churches and we were accompanied practically the whole time by many stray doggies. One of them even tried to enter a museum with us, and they waited faithfully outside while we got lunch (amazing sauceless arugula and mushroom pizza). Two remained at the end, lying a few feet from the parked bus in the rain. It was sad :(. Then we departed for Cefalu, a seaside town with unbelievable views. We got cannoli (which Sicily is famous for) and romped on a beach. Yes, beach. In February. Ok it wasn't BALMY but still...good times. And towards the end of the bus ride back we had a dance party. Yes, we actually danced and sang in the aisles of the moving bus to "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" and "I Will Survive." Dark except for the flashing white and green lights. That night we had been told a group of the Palermo students would be in front of the Teatro Massimo (where The Godfather 3 was filmed) at 8 to meet whoever wanted to go out. A group of 9 of us decided to go. Being Italian, they were a little late. It was a group of about 6 girls--I recognized a few. As we learned within the first negative three seconds, they were unbelievably loud and crazy. Traveling up and down the streets like fools looking for a place to eat, we didn't draw any attention to ourselves at ALL!! The Italians decided on an outdoor place. It was freezing and I ate my pasta with gloves on. It was so uncomfortable that it wasn't uncomfortable, but rather hysterical. They practiced their hilarious English. The girl next to me decided to announce that she sang, that she was a GREAT singer, and that she needed to sing right then and there and we needed to give her suggestions. But as it turned out she had brought her own karaoke CD, which she gave to the waiter to have him play. It was none other than "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You." And at a different point she broke into "My Heart Will Go On" and decided to take my hand and the hand of another Smith girl on her left and sway. Pictures were taken. Apparently they were going to a pub afterwords for more singing and shenanigans. Camilla, Emily and I opted out.....We got a ride back to the hotel from the only guy that was there, who showed up later, and who had an IMPECCABLE British accent. It was quite amusing. A priceless experience all in all.

Phew. I'm gonna start condensing things if nobody has any objections. The next day may have been my favorite. We went to Segesta, where we saw our first ancient Greek temple (well, of the trip. Also the first I had seen in my life). There were breathtaking views (ok at this point it's just a given that the views were incredible at any given moment) of cliffs and specks of trees and tiny flowers and massive stones. In Selinunte we saw more temples...this time we could climb and explore. Yes, we climbed on ancient toppled over columns and within still-standing columns. Atop a mountain of ruins after a somewhat risky climb we saw a field of sheep whose countless bells were jingling. The whole sweeping area was surrounded by electric yellow flowers. I want to DIE there. Holy crap it was heaven. Oh and we had a guide: another stray beasty who followed us from the first site to the second, all the way down to the beach that we had to cut through thick brambles and step over low barbed-wire to get to. The sand was reddish brown and we didn't need our jackets. That night we spent in our amazing new hotel in Agrigento. The was a LITTLE issue with the heat but Giovanna helped us figure it out. Then I somehow screwed it up and froze until dinner (my roommate, Julie, and Camilla were in the hotel sauna at the time...perhaps I should have gone). The hotel is clearly summer-oriented, which means we will have to return. We had a delicious dinner in the hotel as a group. I especially loved the antipasto: swordfish fillet in lemon juice (because it was raw), arugula salad, and sweet baby shrimp in a yummy sauce.

The next day we had a tour of the ancient temples and theaters of Agrigento. We got to climb and explore again, and it was very cool. Then we had a great lunch sitting at long tables outside in the sun (every time our group of 20 girls entered a restaurant I was always struck by how funny and bizarre we must seem). Then we drove to a beach. We maneuvered along rocks that lead to a long, wide jetty that reminded me of my beloved childhood places (Rockport, MA and Kennebunkport), except here the water was turquoise. We collected shells and wandered along the shore so slowly. After a bathroom break where many of us also got ice cream snacks (not gelato, even though the sign said 'Gelateria'...grrrr), we drove the 3 hours to Siracusa, the site of our last hotel. Camilla, Sophie, Julie and I found dinner together. We were literally the only people in the restaurant. It was pretty good even though I spilled an entire glass of wine all over myself. For I am full of grace always when I eat. Then we went to a bar. It was a fun night. Siracusa lit up at night was (duh) gorgeous. The ground in the main piazza was remarkably pristine and smooth and the halo on one of the saints atop the Duomo was glowing perfectly.

In the morning we had a scrumptious breakfast (with very attentive waiters) followed by a tour with a rather eccentric yet captivating guide. We saw even more ancient ruins. This time we went inside a man-made grotta, where every minuscule sound echoes exactly one time. It was sweeet. Also it was a GORGEOUS day. Within seconds of reaching the main piazza everybody stripped layers and put on sunglasses. The Duomo was just as amazing in the daytime. The tour ended but the guide told us we should all go inside the church next door because it had a real Caravaggio. It did indeed. I studied Caravaggio last year so it was pretty swell. Unfortunately I didn't recognize the painting but it was still awesome. Then Sophie, Emily, Camilla and I went to find lunch. It took about 5 years for the man in the place we entered in desperation (we were starving and had been searching for a long time to no avail) to make 2 cheese and tomato sandwiches. But he was nice and looked like Gaston. And then...we went to a place that had THE BEST CANNOLI EVER. We went in and saw the glass display case filled with delectable pastries, including cannoli. (there was a case of gelato on the other side so I was quite torn at first). I noticed some of the cannoli shells were empty. I wondered why this was. Why was this? Because they fill them up FRESH. Have you ever heard of a chocolate cannoli? NEITHER HAD I. IT IS GODLY. The woman asked me if I wanted chocolate sprinkles or crushed almonds. Sprinkles of course. Camilla got a vanilla cannoli with almonds so obviously we had to share. And then she sprinkled it with powdered sugar. When she gave it to me on a plate I turned around at the exact second other Smith girls were walking in. I turned around and presented it, beaming. Nom nom. At 2:45 the bus brought us to Noto. No surprise, there were more amazing churches and more stray doggy friends. We ran into Giovanna and Monica and they brought us to a gelateria. I got chocolate chip and mandarin. Most savory. That night we had our last dinner :(. All 20 of us each got our own individual pizzas.

Our last day was shortened but no less fantastic than all the rest. We went to Taormina. Had to switch to a smaller bus to get to the top. This was my favorite town, it seemed to embody everything Sicily is: mountains (the best view of the active Mt. Etna thus far), oceans (we could see the Italian mainland in the distance), and ancient Greek ruins (the columns opened up to expose a panoramic view that seemed to be the backdrop of the stage). We took lots of pictures and "filled our eyes" (there's an Italian expression, "riempirsi gli occhi"). Despite being miserably depressed that we had to leave soon, Taormina was enchanting. It was so sunny and clear and every tiny side-street and plant growing from a crack in a rock was worthy of being photographed. We got sandwiches and famous "granita" (like a really good slush) for lunch. On our last bus ride, to the airport, Gianni blasted the craptastic music and flicked the lights and we all sang along.

I was all set-up to be miserable for at least the rest of the day. But the enthusiastic greeting we got from the twins and the delicious spicy chocolate tort our host mom had made in advance especially for us made coming back to Florence not so terrible. However, Sicily...I will be back.

Compito

O hey y'all. As you may have deduced, I am back in Italy. And yet the first semester is still in progress, and it is squeezing the life out of us before it burns out. We have one. more. week. Before SICILY, the sweetest reward I can imagine. We will be there for a week and I am so unbelievably excited. But there is still so much MERDA (I assume you don't need the translation for that) to get through before then. :( For some reason every single professor except one decided to give us both a huge final paper and a final exam. Even at Smith with English-speaking courses the work load has never been this bad for a lot of people here. Luckily one of the four papers is done with (9 pages in Italian...I was proud enough about that as it was. If I don't do well so help me God...) That just leaves 3 more papers and 3 more exams! I honestly don't know how I'll be able to finish it all. It's ridiculous, it's absolutely ridiculous.
But hey!

Sicily.

So I don't really have time to talk about much else because I have to finish my 8-10 page literature paper on the 265-page Italian book that I had to read every day over my vacation. In Italian. LET'S GET IT STARTED IN HERE!

Home

I'm home. :)

And it is blissful.

I am officially patriotic. The list of things I missed and of which I am now indescribably appreciative keeps getting longer and longer. I'll give you that list after I describe my getting-home process.

The day before my flight, it snowed. In Florence. For the first time in 3 years, 10 years, 18 years, depending on who you ask. In any case we were told it would not snow. Or get colder than the low 40s. FALSE. That morning I went to the Uffizi Library with two other Smith girls to begin research for my art history paper. Despite a hilariously awkward and drawn-out signing-up procedure with this old man who was trying to speak English to me because he thought my Italian sucked (not untrue), the library was unbelievable. And I found books that were ENTIRELY devoted to my painting. Ideal, yo. And the coolest part was that you had to turn one of those heavy old-fashioned keys to pull back this elaborate towering wooden gate to access the books. Soo Harry Potter right now. We researched until 1, then stopped for lunch in a restaurant where I accidentally ordered SQUID. Don't get me wrong, I like calamari as much as the next guy, but this was not little breaded rings of deliciousness--it was slimy tentacles and the sauce was very very mediocre so it was totally not worth forcing down. After that we went to a different library (that's two more libraries than I had been to all year) where we stopped in a cafe and lamented about the inhumane amount of work we have to do over break (don't even get me started. The professors are trying to make us take them so seriously it's almost comical. And it's not like they don't know the other work we have because THEY ALL INTIMATELY KNOW ONE ANOTHER. And everything's in Italian so it takes twice as long. Oops I got started...). Then Camilla came and we left to do some Christmas shopping. After we left the store where I got my sister's present there were big fat flakes falling from the sky (aka snow) and I would have been all enchanted and stuff if I didn't have my flight to worry about.

Then we got ingredients for the tiramisu we had been planning to make the entire year since we first learned how to make it during Orientation. And we ACTUALLY FINALLY MADE IT. By hand. Literally we whipped the egg whites and egg yolks by hand and grated the chocolate with a thimble-sized grater (the lack of kitchen appliances here indicative of our host mom's lack of cooking skills). Was it worth it? ABSO-FREAKIN-LUTELY. It was the second best tiramisu I'd ever had in my life (first being the one our cooking teacher made during Orientation) if I do say so myself. And the family loved it too. That was our Christmas present to them.

That night I tried (er, I had Camilla try) to call a taxi to take me to the airport the next day. What a SILLY idea. All three lines gave us a few disconcerting beeps and then disconnected. Every single one of the 800 times we tried. Mildly infuriating. So we decided to try in the morning. Same thing. FINALLY Camilla got put on hold (HOPE!!) and just as she was about to hang up because it was probably costing a ton of money, someone ANSWERED! And informed her that they could either send a taxi "now or never." Ah, the customer service caliber in this country is unparalleled. We waited and the taxi obviously never showed up. (I'm not even gonna drag out the story because it's just so TYPICAL). So we transferred to a street where taxis sometimes go by. Or else the bus that goes to the station. 5 minutes and we dropped that idea and decided to go try by the railway station instead. No taxis, but the bus came, praise Allah, so we ran to get on that. It took us to the station where there turned out to be a taxi queue. A lengthy one but at least there was a fairly steady stream of taxis. So Camilla waited with me until I finally got a taxi of my own. And then, I was on my own. I had never flown by myself before so I was pretty nervous. Luckily I had the entire Fairfield University returning from their semester abroad in Florence to accompany me. After waiting in uncertainty, my flight ended up being delayed by only one hour, which is a MIRACLE when you consider all the other flights that were canceled or the people that had to be bussed to different airports in Italy or gahhh I was so lucky. This gave me time to purchase a 7.50 euro piece of pizza, soda, and acid bath aka "fruit cup." Throughout the journey there were returning college students DAPPERTUTTO (everywhere). I made sure to keep the ones going to Boston in sight to reassure myself that I was going to the right places. Because our flight to Zurich was delayed we had to SPRINT to make our connecting flight. I was surprisingly not stressed because I had that group of 20 or so girls from other schools with me and, as it turned out, about 50 passengers were missing so they had no choice but to hold our flight (um THANK YOU). The flight was smooth. I watched Julie & Julia and ate a meal that was better than most of the meals I had had with my host family in Italy. And I was sitting next to one of the college students and she turned out to be very nice. The only bad part was that we were in literally the last row of seats in the plane. I was about 5 inches from the toilets. And had absolutely no access to a view out any window. Oh and then there was that terrifying part where someone asked if there was a doctor on board over the speakers and about 2 minutes later flight attendants were carrying an unconscious girl down the aisle. Ahhh! But other than that, my luggage came, my dad picked me up, and everything has been perfect since.

Here's that list:

1) Ok well obviously I have to put my family, and friends, first. And my dog who I missed so so much and seemed especially big to me after having been around a cat all the time.
2) Effective indoor heating
3) My cozy room. The rug on the floor. When I got into bed the first night I felt like a queen.
4) Soft toilet paper
5) Normal-sized washcloths and big fluffy towels
6) Premium water pressure
7) A shower in which there is space for movement and in which you do not have to do a squat-thrust if you drop the soap and in which you do not have to worry about flooding the bathroom or getting cold when the curtain brushes aside. Related to this, my hair feels fantastic. Something about the water.
8) Being able to eat breakfast in my pajamas and being able to walk around the house in socks/bare feet without having to worry about getting frostbite
9) Real orange juice with pulp (not some HI-C imitation brand)
10) PANCAKES WITH SYRUP (my dad made blueberry pancakes the first morning!)
11) My nice pink phone (ok if you could SEE my hilarious dinosaur/cell phone prototype that I use in Italy you would understand) and being able to text my friends here
12) Christmas decorations inside and outside houses, Christmas tree
13) Hot apple cider. Also root beer
14) Food. Real, filling food.
15) Speedy internet
16) High-definition, high-quality TV (this one I realize makes me seem a little spoiled but really there's something about the Italian TV that makes every movement the characters in movies or shows make seem fake, animated, distorted somehow. Also their shows, even commercials, are just not as good on any level. Here, this is a snippet from the game show that's on every single night: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3S7EoZUERdE)
17) Being able to drive a car again is kind of nice
18) And on that note: wide open winding roads, drivers that obey the rules of the road
19) Cheerful customer service employees. The woman working the tollbooth we passed through leaving the airport was friendlier than the vast majority of the customer service employees I had to interact with in Italy
20) PANDORA RADIO
21) Washing machine that actually leaves your clothes smelling nice. And a DRIER.
22) Here, the mosquitoes are dead like they should be. They are not immortal and infinite, they do not buzz in your ear the second before you're about to fall asleep in the dead of winter. They do not bite you, they do not irritate you beyond human comprehension, they are good and DEAD.
23) No cigarette smoke--whether faint or overpowering--to breathe in.
24) Beautiful piano
25) Home. Just the feeling of being home.

THE CLIMB

I hate to name this post after a Miley Cyrus song but really it's the most appropriate title I could think of. Ahem. Hello ye faithful readers. Some significant things have transpired in my life as of late. I shall begin with Friday. We had to get up at the crack of dawn (ok, like 7:10) for a very special and much-anticipated occasion: going to the police headquarters of Florence to get fingerprinted! I didn't really understand all the logistics but it had something to do with the fact that we now won't get kicked out of Italy anytime soon. It was gross and rainy and windy and cold that morning. But we were motivated by sheer excitement! Naaaaht. There was molto traffico so the bus wasn't coming and we had one of those wonderful moments in which we had to decide within the next negative two minutes if we should wait for the bus to show or start walking. We started walking. We were late, but we found the place. When I say "we found" anything, just insert "we" with "Camilla" because I have the sense of direction of a rock and therefore completely and utterly rely on her at all times. It's bad. Anyhow we were all prepared for the worst because Italy is notorious for being heinously disorganized and ridiculous in all aspects of everything. But everything went smoothly and it didn't end up taking more than 2 hours! (apparently the year before it took EIGHT). I suppose I could have been proactive and diligent and all that stuff and gone to my internship at the library but my boss was already under the impression that I wasn't coming (let it be known that I did not TELL her I wasn't coming. I described the interference and she said, 'So you're not coming then'--wow but it sounded way nicer in Italian--and I tried to continue telling her that I just didn't know how long the whole thing would take but before long not going at all started to sound nice so I just let her think what she thought) so I decided instead to go home. For lunch I got Chinese food and the nice woman there called me "Rossina" (little red). I nearly perished on the 1 minute walk back because it was so cold and windy and rainy and godforsaken. That night we went to the ballet! We were late again and I made a very very bad decision in wearing heels. The whole thing was a Christmas present from Giovanna and Monica :). The ballet was an abbreviated version of Carmen and much to my delight I recognized one of the songs because we played it in orchestra in high school. And I recognized all the others because they're extremely famous. Overall I preferred the music. The dancing, from what I could devise, was not all that impressive. I thought the Boston Ballet could have done a much better job, but my sister would have been a better judge of that. It ended and Camilla and I were all ready to go but a curious thing happened: nobody moved. Ever. APPARENTLY there was an intermission and then a second act! Even though Carmen had just died. The second act turned out to be an opera (or, as our host mom rather briskly corrected us, an OPERETTA) called Il Campanello by Donizetti (I had to Google it later). I thought it was MUCH better than the ballet. It was funny and cheerful and I think I was smiling throughout. Afterwords the whole group of us went on an epic quest for food (it was epic for me because my shoes were trying to murder me and I prevailed). We found a little snack place in the middle of bar/club central where about 534890 youngsters were loitering. I tried to order a sandwich and the dimwit girl behind the counter just looked at me as if she was trying to use her brain for the very first time. We hadn't had dinner because we had to leave for the ballet by 7:40 and by then it was maybe midnight so I was FAMISHED. I ended up succeeding in ordering a piece of pizza. By then it was the coldest it had ever been in Florence so 7 of us decided to split a taxi home. Best decision ever.
On Saturday I expected my legs/feet would be screaming in pain, but they miraculously weren't. So I made sure they would be the next day. Allow me to explain. Camilla and I took the train to Cortona. Allow me to be more specific. We took the train to CAMUCIA. Cortona is the next town over. Although the word "next" seems slightly misleading. As we pulled into the station we were granted a sprawling view of Cortona--all the white sunshiney houses and ancient Etruscan palaces and walls distributed among a dark green hill in the far off distance, like a model. We laughed and said "Well I guess we'll be needing to take a bus." There seemed to be a bus station right outside the station but we couldn't figure out where to buy tickets, and the schedule seemed to indicate that we had just missed a bus and would have to wait quite a while for the next one. We decided to start walking, figuring we'd find another stop along the way. Also food. Umm, we found neither. We stopped to ask people in some arts-n-craftz store but they proved useless. We continued walking. Always up a slight incline, always. Always there were outstretching roads leading endlessly towards where? Cortona? WELL WE HOPED. I ate a clementine on the way. That clementine probably saved my life. That and the magnificent views that helped us forget our exhaustion and hunger. I couldn't describe them. Just green and trees and horizon and blue and clouds and buildings just as ancient and natural as the nature around them. When I realized there were no sidewalks and not another human being in sight for miles, I realized there was a REASON for that. People don't usually walk from Camuica to Cortona. Probably haven't since Etruscan times. The streets never ever flattened out. I was thirsty, I was hungry, I was exhausted, but what else was there to do but keep walking? Camilla said she would have considered hitch-hiking. But then there were no more cars. Just us and slopes. I think I foresaw my death. Not to be melodramatic or anything. haha. Honestly though it was a nightmare. Not even the heavenly views could distract me anymore from the SHEER RAW DESIRE TO REST AND BE FED. I'm truly surprised I didn't at least faint. We stopped to sit on some wall of someone's beautiful driveway until a pick-up truck pulled in. I had the last sip of Camilla's water. Around winding bends there were more winding bends and bending winds and inclines and hills and slopes and steepness and I can't comprehend even now what was keeping me going. We began seeing a dog here, a person there, which gave me hope. And then finally. And I mean finally. We reached a fairly level clearing that included a semblance of a parking lot. With a sign that had a map with a label that read "Cortona." And a great stone gate leading into the city. I was deliriously relieved. The first restaurant we saw we entered. I literally couldn't move or speak until the food came. It was the most delicious bruschetta of my life--fresh tomatoes, olive oil, pine nuts and pepper. I felt like a man who hadn't eaten in 3 days. Then we were still hungry (obviously) so we ordered something else that may have been the most delicious thing I have ever eaten in my life: warm fresh bread with melted cheese and truffle sauce and olive oil and pepper. I could have eaten 15 of them. Holy JESUS. Then we were literally refueled and had enough energy to conquer the giant hill that is Cortona. There were beautiful churches and sweet cute dogs and stunning views. At one point we saw two little old women slowly creeping arm in arm down the giant hill that is Cortona and then we wondered how the HELL CAN ANYONE OVER THE AGE OF 65 LIVE THERE. Then we cracked up imagining that they must be built like pro wrestlers under their shawls. As it happened, we were growing nearer and nearer to the top of Cortona, to that church that I had seen a few hours ago as if from a telescope down at ground 0. There was a service going on when we got there but we poked our heads in and it looked spectacular. The winding road kept going so we kept following. By that point the sun was starting to set. A man had stopped his car to set up his tripod and take pictures of the expanse of Tuscany lying below us. We kept going. There was a fortress. The road turned into a dirt path and we followed it to a perfect hill that had three massive stones with inscriptions from another time. It was the top of the world and we could see everything. It was the most explicit metaphor for accomplishment that I could imagine, let alone experience. Looking out into the mountains whose boundaries blurred and faded in the extreme distance that they were at, at the pinks and purples of the sky, I felt like I could have fallen into infinity, consumed by beauty. Or something. I doubt I'll ever forget it.
When we finally tore ourselves away we found the ONE FLAT AREA OF CORTONA. Where obviously all the stores are. So we got gelato. On the way back we asked people at a gas station if they knew where a bus station was. They knew. We found it. And the bus came. And we didn't have tickets but that wasn't a problem. It was warm and comfortable and fast-moving and bus-like and it was BLISS. Especially realizing then exactly how far we had walked. It was at least a 7 minute bus ride! We calculated the distance that night. It was 2 miles. I don't know if that's impressive or not because I don't do physical activity but maybe you can understand from this post that it was.