Carpe Diem

My Final Blog

2010-05-05T23:32:00.001-07:00

For my last weekend in Italy I went to Rome with Shannon, Kayely, and Lily to see the Prima di Maggio Concert, and to say goodbye to Bekah. Saying goodbye to Bekah was hard, because I feel as though we have become very close throughout the semester, but apparently getting back to her fiancé is more important. Once we got to our hostel, Bekah was feeling ill so she stayed inside and insisted that we went out without her. It was really hot that day so before we left I put on shorts and my cheap plastic flip-flops and walked out the door. I briskly walked down the stairs until started to briskly fall down the stairs, hurting my wrist and my butt. Shannon and Lilly found it to be funny, and I was laughing at first until I saw the large lump on the palm of my hand. Note to self: don’t wear plastic flip-flops on sleek marble stairs.
That day, we went to the Spanish Steps and then the Trevi Fountain. When we got off the metro to the Spanish Steps, we immediately got something to drink, and then proceeded to sit on the steps. While we were sitting on the steps we were approached by many Bangladeshi vendors asking to if we would by different trinkets and jewelry. During one of the sale pitches a bird pooped on Shannon’s head. It was funny because nobody knew it happened, but she screamed “oh my god” a couple times and kept patting her head. Once I saw the poop on her on top of her hair, I was hysterical and immediately thought of John Rose and his saying “If a bird poops on your head, you will get pregnant within the next year”. We immediately bought ‘good luck bracelets’ from one Bangladeshi after the bird pooped on her, because Shannon is going to need all the luck she can get being a teenage mother.
From the Spanish Steps, we walked to the Trevi Fountain, stopping at a few shops on the way. A hundred dollars later, we arrived at the Trevi Fountain. I find the best way to take in a sight such as this is to sit and admire it for a long time, so we did just that. It was very relaxing until people younger than me started to have a Trevi Fountain water fight, splashing everyone around them with the water that looks much better than it smells. After that, we left with the fear of smelling like bad feet for the rest of the day. On our walk back to the metro, we started to get hungry so we stopped at the most authentic restaurant we could find. After going down a few alleys, we finally found a restaurant with affordable prices and good food. When we sat down, I saw that Bill Clinton ate at this restaurant and he “loved the carbonara” so I chose that, which was also the least expensive item on the menu. Thank you, Bill Clinton, for saving me money AND recommending an outstanding dish. My favorite part about this restaurant experience was one of the waiters. He was an old man wearing the same mischievous smile that I always do, so of course I liked him right off the bat. I liked him more when I started to hear him sing as he was brining plates to tables, and then my fondness grew when he started making a game of opening wine bottles. After telling him “bravo” for the excellent wine-bottle-opening-game I felt as if I immediately gained a friend, and some free food (he brought free dessert to the table). I was sad to leave him when I finished my meal, but we said our ciao’s and piacere’s and then went on the metro to go back to the hostel.
Our hostel is near the train station, so we had to take the Termini metro stop back, which forces us to go through the station to get to the main street. Walking through the station was an experience in itself because as we were walking we heard two men exchanging hostile tones with each other in the overpriced McDonald’s. When I looked over, I saw them shove each other, then one punched the other, and then, to my astonishment, one of the men karate flipped the other on the floor! If you are not sure what a karate flip is, I suggest watching any Jackie Chan movie, because then you will realize that this is not a easy thing to do. After the intense flipping action, the Italian Jackie Chan then kneed the other man in the chin. It was all very frightening, so I ran away with Lilly while two of the others were being spectators. This incident proves how much of a coward I actually am, because at any sight of danger (or insect) I run as fast as I can to avoid danger (or bug bites).
The next day started off a little blurry, because I remember waking up to Bekah saying bye, but the night before I agreed to walk her to the station. But when I woke up the second time, Bekah was gone, my conscious was heavy, and one of my roommates was heavily snoring. The hostel brought us breakfast to our room (how awesome is that) with coffee and croissants. I drank my (and Bekah’s) portion of coffee, and one-by-one my roommates started to wake up too. We got ready, and started our day moving to our new hostel. After we got situated, I took the elevator down (which I do not normally do, but I decided it was best for my safety) and we sat in the Vittorio Emanuele Park. I made a few science observations there, and then we received a call from our friends saying they were ready to meet up. We told them to meet us at the Trevi Fountain, and then we went to the Primo di Maggio concert.
The concert was different than I would have expected. The first thing that surprised me was all the closed fists that were being thrusted in the air. No, they were not fighting, they were supporting communism by doing one of the symbols. The second thing that surprised me was the amount of drugs and alcohol that were being consumed here. In Sansepolcro, the teenagers and adults hardly ever drink to the point of intoxication, and at this concert some of the people were beyond intoxication. Some people were passed out cold on the ground, and looked as if they were dead. I even saw three or four people get carried out in ambulance stretchers. It was really weird to see the misbehaved part of Italy, because my whole trip here I have never seen actual ITALIANS participate in this type of behavior. Other than the drugs, alcohol, and communists, the point of going to this event (to listen to the music) satisfied me indeed. I still cannot tell if Italian music is beautiful, or completely horrible because it sounds like a spoken version of opera with unorganized chords. When I was trying to get to the front by the stage, I got stopped by a group of boys who were trying to talk to me. They were talking really fast, and I did not really want to talk to them, so I took the easy way out and said “Non capisco, sono un’Americana”. This did not divert attention, but drew it because then they all wanted a picture with the “ragazza Americana”. I thought it was funny because they treated me like a celebrity. The concert of the horrible or genius (I am still undecided) Italian artists went on until midnight, and we returned to Sansepolcro the next day.
My last week here is going to be filled with exams and cleaning, but once I get all of that done I will be able to relax and enjoy the rest of my time in Sansepolcro. As for right now, I find myself reminiscing and thinking of all the things that I will be without once I leave. I do not think I will ever forget my roommates (Shannon, Jess, and Kim) and the nickname for ourselves; the “wolf pack”. Every morning from now on, I will not wake up to Kim’s fascinator (head band, or clip) of the day, Jess calling me a ‘big mess’ with every move I make, and Shannon laughing at all my jokes, even the ones that are not funny. Once I leave this palazzo, I will not be able to look out my window and see medieval buildings, and a scenic view of the mountains or cute Italian boys walking down the corso. As every hour passes in North Carolina, I will miss hearing the chime of bells rung by a very talented man here, instead of by computer. When I go to class each morning, I will no longer be yelled at by Sara for not having any shoes or socks on. I will miss many little things about this palazzo, and many people who have played an important role in my growing up here in Sansepolcro. Thanks to these people, I now know that it is important to make my bed and keep my room clean, if not for my own sanity it should be for that of the other’s that have to live with me. I have learned how to be thrifty, and not spend my money on the first thing I think that I like. I know how to travel safely, economically, and lightly without the aid of a parent or someone else. This study abroad has changed my life forever, and has added unexpected friends and experiences to a lifetime of memories that I will never forget. My departure from this beautiful country is on May 8th, and although I am happy to see my family, I am sad to leave the family that I have established here.

The last few trips....

2010-04-29T16:13:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I went to Val D’Orcia and other surrounding towns. I went to so many places on this weekend getaway that they all seem to blend together, but I do have many good memories here that I have to share. The first day of our trip I was in and out of consciousness because I kept falling asleep on the bus. But, every time I woke up it was a reminder of how lucky I am because the landscape in this part of Tuscany is beautiful; it is all green rolling hills filled with the springtime wildflowers. Looking out the window I saw nothing but farms, greenery, or olive trees; it was truly serene and astonishing. The thing that sticks out in my mind of the first day was when we went to the biggest monastery in the world. This monastery, during WWII, hid Jewish people from the Germans, and since we are reading about that sort of thing in our literature class this place is most appropriate, and interesting to visit. The monastery was huge, and filled with frescos and beautiful rooms. Dr. Webb wanted us to hear them chanting so we stayed for the service. The chanting was very beautiful, but also quite funny. At the beginning, the monks kept standing up and sitting down every five minutes or so, which puzzled me because I have never had to do anything like that in church before. Then as the service went on, I realized that there were two (or more) monks that were having a little problem staying awake. It was quite funny because one minute they would be singing, and then the next minute you saw their eyes start shutting, then their heads slowly drifting forward, and they would wake up by a dramatic shift in their body. It is comforting to know that I am not the only Christian who has problems battling sleep during a service.
After the monastery, we went to the place we were staying for the weekend, Sant’Anna in Camprena. It is an old convent that was changed into a very beautiful hotel. Its antiqueness was well shown through the tiled floors, stone stairs, and quaint rooms. Since I love old architecture, this was a true holiday for me to just stay in a place such as this. The dinner that we ate here (which was paid for, generously, by Dr. Webb) was just an impressive and the building itself, because it was all quite delicious. During dinner I ate more than my share and also drank wine with everyone. It was a relaxing day, and the only bad part about it was when my lips were stained purple from the wine and I was made fun of by my classmates.
The second day we went to a place called La Foce in Val D’Orcia. La Foce is a very important place that is also part of a book I have read for my literature class. The book takes place during WWII when Iris Origio took in orphans, prisoners of war, and Italian soldiers to protect from the Germans on this estate. It was very pleasing to see what I have been reading about and also very pleasing to the eye as the gardens have been very well kept. Our tour guide, although very intelligent, was quite funny because his tour was a little less than enthusiastic. He read the factual information as a half awake person would, and I got a good laugh out of it. With the aid of our tour guide, we were shown around the gardens of the house and were also brought down into the olive oil cellar, where I bought my mom authentic Italian olive oil. We went a few places afterwards and then returned home for our second delicious dinner at Sant’Anna in Camprena.
Kayley, Shannon, and I decided we had too much energy to sit around for an hour before dinner, so we all went on a walk. In the beginning we were distracted by the large field of olive trees, and, like the children we are, we decided to climb one. After a few attempts (and failures) of Shannon trying to climb it, I decided to show them how it was done. After I climbed it and posed for a few pictures, I felt pretty mischievous and I got down. Shannon and Kayley proceeded after me, until Dr. Swab walked by and saw what we were doing. She reprimanded us for attempting to harm a plant, so we got down and continued farther on our walk. The trail was a path in the middle of the woods, so it was already a bit scary, but what made it even scarier was when I kept hearing chainsaw-sounding noises. After hearing it for about five minutes I became afraid of being in the next hit movie “Italy Chainsaw Massacre,” I had the group stop and listen. Kayley started to laugh, and explained to me that it was the sound that pigs make. I thought she was just pulling my chain to make me less afraid, but when we walked down further there was a fairly large pig farm. It made me realize how unexposed I have been to farm animals in general, because at the sound of a pig I thought I was being chased by a chain saw. We observed the pigs for about thirty minutes, but it started to rain so we decided to walk back before dinner. Once we ate dinner, I was quite tired so I went to sleep.
The next day we traveled to many different places on our way back to Sansepolcro, but once again, we went to so many places that weekend that they all seem to mush together. In one of the towns, I ate at a world champion gelattoria which was amazingly wonderful. Another town we went to was Montepulciano, where the famous (which should infamous) movie Twilight was taped. As I was walking up the hill, I heard the bells chime and started taping it for my friend Alexis who is quite obsessed. Once I got to the tower, I was so excited that I did not realize there was a funeral procession going on. As soon as I realized I screamed “OH NO A DEAD PERSON!” and immediately turned off my camera. Sometimes I really do wish I thought before I spoke, because this was worse than the last time I screamed “oh no” next to that prostitute. After buying a bunch of twilight paraphernalia, and a present for my best friend Justine, we were off to Volterra, and then came back home. This trip was the only, besides Verona, that I was sad to come home because I very much enjoyed myself.
The past two weeks I have been going to a lot of Italian family’s houses for dinner. This has made me realize that meals in Italy are more of a religion than a break for food. The first dinner I went to was my actual host family’s house. She made all of the tasty food by herself (no frozen boxes necessary) and we ate and talked for about three hours. In America, eating and talking for three hours is almost a chore, because someone always has something else to do rather than enjoy a good meal and company. The next dinner I went to Sara’s house, which was a great experience in itself. Seeing her outside of school was awesome, because in her home she is even funnier than she is here. For instance, when her child fell and his lip swelled, she told him he was lucky because famous pay a lot of money for that look. It was also interesting to see her parents there when I visited, because apparently they come to her house every day. That is not the case in America, because most of the people I know, including myself, live far away from their grandparents. The most recent family I have been to dinner is called the Chimenti’s. Here I learned to make tiramisu and an onion dish (mom, be jealous), but the best part of the night was when we started to eat. When the food was first brought out he kept encouraging me to take more, and more, and more. I love to eat, so I took ever offer he gave me. The second thing he offered me was the bottle of red wine, vinsanto, and grappa. He also offered Kelsey this alcoholic offer, and gave her a whole cup full of grappa. I could not stop laughing at this fact because I am pretty sure the only thing Kelsey enjoys consuming each day is oxygen, and she looked at the glass as if it had ruined her life. I loved the way he was so generous with everything and was very happy to have complete strangers in his house. This is the thing that I will miss most about Italy, is the genuineness and generosity of every person I have met here.
Next week will be my final journal because I will be leaving Italy on May 8th. Words could not describe how sad I am to leave this wonderful place, but I am also ready to return home to my family, friends, and toll house chocolate chip cookies.

Easter, Italian Clubs, and Things I cannot mention ;)

2010-04-14T15:19:00.001-07:00

Easter is my favorite holiday, because in my life it is the only one not tainted by presents, greed, and marketing. Since I work at a grocery store and my parents work in retail, Easter is the only holiday we do not have to work, and do not have to worry about spending money on many presents. For this reason, missing Easter with my family was very hard on me. To ease my emotional pain, I went to the south of Italy to Capri with Jess, Shannon, Kim, and Kelsey, where the sun is always shining. Of course, traveling is never easy, and the first problem occurred on the first day, within the first few hours. Kelsey, who was supposed to plan all the things involved with travel, bought our tickets and told us our train was at 3:20 p.m. When we arrived at the train station, she then mentioned that our train ticket was for two hours before. Because of this confusion, when we got on the train, we all had to stand next to the bathroom with four other people for five hours. Also, not only did I have to inhale the smell everyone’s bowl movements for five hours, but we were also charged an eight euro fee for being on the wrong train. Now it is quite humorous, because we were the typical stupid Americane who did not understand the train system, and were in the way.
After getting off the train, we rode the Circumvesuviano (a sort of metro that runs from Naples to Sorrento) to San Agnello, where our hostel was. Our hostel was the most remarkable place we have ever stayed. When you walk through the sliding glass doors, there is a reception desk to the right, a bar/night club to the left, and a huge lounge area straight ahead. It was all decorated very modernly, and was very pleasing to my eye. After the checking in process, we proceeded to our rooms which were also very nice and clean. To my surprise, we roomed with a few other girls who went to Oneonta, a college in New York that my cousin went to. I was very happy with our choice of hostel at first, and I was very happy that the strangers I was to room with seemed to be very nice. After we settled in, we all went down to eat dinner and have a drink. The manager, Michele, gave us a special price on our food, and there was free karaoke. Our first night there ended very well for me, despite some negativity brought into the group by one person on this trip, and I was very happy with everything that day.
The thing that most pleased me on this trip was the boat excursion we all went on. Our captain, Angelino, took us around the whole coast of Sorrento (taking us to the blue, green, and white caves), to Naples, and then back to the San Agnello marina. On this boat ride we were supplied with an unlimited amount of sandwiches, and drinks of different kinds. The captain was really friendly, and tried his hardest to explain each part about the caves, and also went out of his way to make sure we were having a good time. The coast line was beautiful; the clear blue water crashing upon the rocky cliffs is something one must see at least once in a lifetime. The combination of the beautiful ocean, and our wonderful boat ride made this trip extremely enjoyable, and is definitely top rated in my ‘favorite things I have done in Italy’ list.
My second favorite thing here was seeing an Italian Easter procession. When I was walking down the street, I kept seeing all these strange posters. They had a picture of three people in hooded robes, such as the garments the Ku Klux Klan wears in America. I was already very scared because at the time I was doing a project on the mafia in the south, and now I was convinced the southern Italians are racists, as well as Mafiosi. I found out the real meaning of these posters by complete accident. When we were walking back from dinner one night, I saw candles lining Via Corso (the main street in Sorrento), and remembered John Rose telling us that a procession like this would happen everywhere in Italy, and that we should see it. When I reminded Shannon, she was immediately on board, but getting the rest of the group to stay was fairly difficult; the last train to San Agnello was in thirty minutes, and the only alternative to the train was the thirty minute walk. After a bit of convincing, everyone decided that staying would be more beneficial than avoiding a walk home, and we waited for about thirty minutes. As it came nearer, I realized that these posters were not promoting racism, but were advertising the procession with a picture of the traditional hooded robes they wore during it. When the procession finally reached where I was standing, I had a mixture of emotions going on inside of me. The procession in Italy is not a happy, colorful celebration with Easter bunnies and dyed egg hunts, but one that demonstrates the twelve stages of the crucifixion. It is staged like a funeral procession, with everyone wearing black, and a band playing the traditional funeral song. Each stage of the cross is symbolized with different things, and carried by the people in the black robes. For example, there were whips and daggers with blood on them, and also children carrying the cross. It was a very amazing, but morbid thing, and is definitely not justified by my description. Just like most everything else I have witnessed in Italy, you just have to experience it. The best part about this story is that the last train did not leave until after the procession ended, so we all got our ways!
The trip to Sorrento definitely had its ups and downs about it. The beneficial ones I can describe to the public, but the negative things I do not think are appropriate. All I can say abou the negative things is that some people in this world do very odd, and do things in public that most of us would not. That is about all I can say about the bad things that happened in this trip. After this trip to Sorrento I was most eager to get back to Sansepolcro, and missing my Italian hometown is the reason I stayed there the next weekend. During the weekend Shannon, Lilly, and I went shopping, ate food, and went to Lo Scorpione(a local club). Lo Scorpione was most interesting, because I did not know what to expect. Most people warned me to stay away because the boys there are most eager to meet American women for the wrong reason. When I actually went, it was different than I anticipated, and what I was warned of. It was all very fun, because they only play techno music and the Italians only two-step (a kind of dance). Since I love techno, and I cannot dance, enjoying myself was fairly easy. The night we went was also a night a 'special guest' was to appear there. When we were dancing and talking to our Italian friends, we all the sudden heard a change in music and a spot light go onto this ballerina girl on stage. As the music began to progress, her clothes progressed to come off, and soon after she was down to tassels and underwear. It was quite funny because we had no idea it was going to happen, and it is a VERY rare occasion in Italy. At the end of the night I felt very Italian when I looked at the time after returning home, and it was 5:30 a.m.
This week is very busy, as I will visit a goat farm, an arboretum, and Val D’Orcia, which I will write about next week.

A new semester....

2010-04-06T13:22:00.000-07:00

When I am not on weekend vacations, I am busy working on homework, lesson plans, and planning my next trip. This work during the week has made the days pass like seconds, and just recently did I realize that I have little time left in Sansepolcro; the city I have come to love. The month of March has brought many additions to my education in Italy. I have started to teach elementary school kids the English language, and I have also started a new class called Science in Society, taught by Dr. Swab. Outside of doing homework, I have been bonding with the girls and eating Margarita and Alessandra’s cooking. Each day their meals get better and better, and also often come with a tasty dessert. The girls and I have become very close, and most of us have decided to live with each other next year. I am extremely happy the way my adventures in Italy have gone so far, and I am not (sorry mom) anticipating my departure back into the United States.
I have been teaching the elementary school kids for about a month now, but I doubt I will ever forget my first time in the classroom. The night before I met the children for the first time, I prepared many activities for them to learn counting, the months of the year, and also the seasons. The preparation for the class took me until two in the morning because I wanted everything to be perfect, and wanted them to enjoy themselves. When I walked into the classroom the next morning, the children’s eyes were bright with excitement, and many of them came up to hug me. It was quite the warming experience, and it was a good way to start my day. My luck never fails to abandon me, so one could imagine that this day was not always heart-warming and nice. When they were acquainted with me and my origins, it was finally time for me to teach. To my dismay, the teacher informed me that the first grade class had moved on from counting, and is now learning the different parts of the body. This was the case with my other two classes, as they have progressed onto a different subject. I felt as if I was giving Americans, specifically Meredith College, because all of my material was useless, and I appeared to come unprepared. I was feeling very discouraged by the end of my day there, but as the teacher walked me out of the school, she informed me that I was a great addition to the class room and is glad her students have the opportunity to have me teach them.
That would not be the only mistake I would make, and there is one specific one I feel I should mention. For Easter, Silvia (the teacher I am assisting) told me to plan something to show the kids what Americans do to celebrate the holiday. The first thing that I associated with Easter was coloring eggs, so I printed out pictures of enough eggs for the whole class to color. Once they finished coloring their paper eggs, they could give them to me. After I collected them from each child, the children would have to close their eyes (some of them cheated) and I would hide the eggs. When the hunt finished, I had chocolate eggs I bought from the local grocery store to give to each child. This sounds adorable and almost flawless, but, with my luck, something never fails to go wrong. Not only did I forget where I hid one child’s egg, but the chocolate candy I bought had little chunks of coffee beans in them. I did not know that it had coffee in it until one of the kids came up to me with a scrunched up face saying, Megan questo ha café. So, not only did I make one eggless child upset, but I also caffeine induced six year old children. The teacher that I am assigned to cheered me up again, because as I was leaving that day she informed me that the children love me, and that my lesson was very fun that day. Through these flawed lesson plans, I have learned that with each mistake comes a new strength; now I know to email the teacher before I spend hours planning, and to look at the label before buying something for six year olds.
Although I enjoy teaching the children very much, it is not my favorite part of this experience. As cliché as it sounds, what I appreciate the most is getting to know the children. It did not take me long to figure out that a little boy in my first class, Fillipo, was the class clown that the teacher gets annoyed by at times. He is a precious little boy, but he often makes silly faces at the teacher, hides in random places so he does not have to participate in certain activities, and often dances about in his seat. To be honest, if I am allowed to have a favorite, he would be it because he reminds me of myself when I was his age. I should also report that my other two roommates, Jess and Kim, also have bambini captivi(bad boys) in their classes that are named Fillipo, so now we know to stay clear of boys our age with that name. I have also become fond of another little boy in my class named Michele. He is quite the opposite of Fillipo, because he does his work and is never naughty. Every time I see him, he always runs up to me, gives me a very long hug, and tells me he loves me. He also runs up to me whenever he finishes coloring something, and shows me his picture for approval. Even if I just say great job, one can see his expression turn to joy. I wish that I had time to describe all of the sweet children that I teach, but unfortunately there are over a hundred children total within the five classes(the school decided to share me with two other teachers, and I love it), and it would turn this blog into a book.
My science class with Dr. Swab has been surprisingly enjoyable. I normally do not like science, but I really do like her class. It is three hours long, and during these three hours we walk through Sansepolcro learning the names and functions of different plants or animals. These walks have not only helped me learn plant names, but also have helped me appreciate the landscape of Sansepolcro. Since I am usually in the palazzo doing homework, her class allows me to walk around and get some fresh air. She is convinced that people learn better through repetition, and I am starting to believe it, too. If someone would have told me last month that I would know the difference between a palm tree and a cycad, or better yet know what a cycad is, I would have laughed in their face. I am proud to say that I can identify the quantity of stamens, pistils, and petals. Also, I am happy to report that I know that flowers have three parts; stems, leaves, and roots, everything else is just a modified version of these three parts. Since I able to record these facts without looking at my notes just proves her theory on repetition correct. On top of repetition, Dr. Swab is very extremely enthusiastic about what she is talking about. When one can see that someone enjoys what they do, at least for me, the learning process becomes more interesting and easy. I often feel like an idiot when birds, insects, or other animals with wings fly near me, because I act as the ‘Duck and Cover’ turtle advised people to act in the 1950’s. I feel this way because when Dr. Swab or her husband Mr. Ed see an insect or hear a bird, they are not afraid to approach it, or even touch it. Next week in my blog, I will talk about my trip to Capri, which was more interesting than any other trip I have gone on.

....Do as the Romans Do

2010-03-31T14:01:00.000-07:00

…Do as the Romans Do
My mother is an early bird; therefore we all woke up around 6:30 a.m. This is god to do in hostels because we, well my parents who actually got out of bed, beat the others to the showers. By the time I got out of bed, there were already two people in line behind my parents. My laziness paid off when the girl in front of me finished showering, and got stuck in the bathroom. I was trying extremely hard not to laugh when I heard the very brutal battle between her and the old fashioned key. After a minute or so, the jingling of the key stopped, and I heard a faint cry of “Oh my god!” When I heard this, my attempt to hold in my laughter failed miserably, and I ran to my room and was hysterical. My parents were curious as to why I was laughing so much, so they went into the hallway to investigate. When they witnessed the war between the girl and the door, my parents joined me in laughter. My father is a better person than I, so he went up to the door and asked “Are you having trouble in there?” She replied, “Yes, I can’t get the key to unlock the door.” At this time I went to tell her friend (the expert key handler who helped us in our room the previous night) that her friend was stuck in the bathroom. After about ten minutes of fighting, the key finally surrendered to the guiding words of the key expert, and the door unlocked. When the girl walked out of the door we all cheered for her. I have to admit, although her getting stuck in the bathroom was funny, I was very nervous to also become prisoner of the bathroom.
Luckily, the keys in the palazzo are the same in the hostel, so my exit from the bathroom was easy. After a huge breakfast, we went to what I was most excited to see, the Termi di Caracalla. In English, the Baths of Caracalla is an enormous structure where the ancient Romans came to bathe, swim, and do some promiscuous things. Although it is now in ruins, the size of this place is breath taking. Also, there are still mosaic floors in-tact, which allows the mind to imagine how it once looked. This magnificent structure was the model for many famous structures, such as Penn Station in New York.
According to my itinerary, the walk to the Coliseum was only supposed to take ten minutes, but instead took us two hours. There is a great debate as to whose fault it was, but instead of taking the direct route to the coliseum, we went around the Roman forum, up to the Piazza Venezia, and then down Via Dei Fiori Imperiali, until we finally reached the ancient Roman structure. My parents and I were famished, so we decided to find a restaurant close to the coliseum. Bekah’s advice proved itself right, because eating near a tourist attraction is not only expensive, but also a mind game. It was a mind game because our waitress would bring us extra food to the table, and try to convince us that we ordered it. We then had to trust our memory on what we did and did not order so we did not get charged for the superfluous food she put on our table. Not only did she test our memory, but also our wit, because when she asked us which size we wanted, she only mentioned the more expensive ones. The mind games did not bother me as much as the attempt of homicide. I originally ordered a bottle of acqua naturale, but when I tasted it I discovered it was not a typical type of acqua naturale; this water tasted like battery acid and salt. I quickly discovered her plan, and ordered a coke. When we received our forty euro check, the nice woman let us know that fifty Euros would be okay with the tip. We kindly left her a three euro tip (because we did not have exact change) and FINALLY went to the coliseum
My family and I already bought tickets to enter the coliseum, so we were able to skip the long line and walk straight in. Before this famous Roman site was constructed, the Flavian Amphitheatre built by Emperor Nero stood in its place. When Vespian became the new emperor, he destroyed most of Nero’s luxurious things, including the amphitheatre. The new technology of concrete allowed Vespian to build the new coliseum quickly and cheaply. Vespian used this new complex for entertainment, and this entertainment involved the death of many humans and animals. Currently, Vespian’s house of entertainment is in better condition than the Termi di Caracalla, but it was apparent that without restoration this complex would be close to a pile of rubble. It was fascinating to see the tunnels the gladiators and animals would walk through before their battle and (possibly) their death. What was most interesting to me was that the Romans used to fill the center part with water, and have naval battles! My father and I went around the coliseum and enjoyed the scenery, while my mother randomly did her infamous disappearing acts. We then proceeded to the second floor of the coliseum, where I sat on a staircase to draw what I saw, and my parents went into the gift shop. About thirty minutes later, my parents reappeared, and decided they were ready to go.
The rest of my night in Rome was quite a blur because I was so tired. I know that after we went to the coliseum, my parents wanted to go see the Spanish Steps. The Trevi Fountain was on our way, so we stopped there, ate gelato, and made our wishes with a toss of a coin. It took us longer to get from the Trevi Fountain to the Spanish Steps because my mother and I stopped in different stores on the way. When we arrived at the Spanish Steps we were approached by a middle-eastern guy with a bouquet of roses. Before I left, I remember Dr. Webb warning us that men approach tourists and hand them roses, then request a payment for them. Although I said no to the man several times, he finally said that they were free and gave my mother and I each one rose. As I was walking away, I heard my dad arguing with this man. He wanted my father to pay for the roses he just gave my mother and me for ‘free’. My mother and I then gave the man back his roses and continued on. After a little more shopping, my father saw a sign that said Hard Rock Café and requested that we go there (my father has a little obsession with their gift shop.) Luckily it was close to where we were, and the wait time was only fifteen minutes. Here, some very new things happened; my father and I shared our first beer together. We took many pictures, ate our hamburgers, and listened to rock music. It was the most American thing that I have done in months, and although it was my parents first time in Italy; I believe they enjoyed it too.
After eating our hamburgers and drinking our beer, we returned to the hostel exhausted. Our last night in Rome was spent sleeping, but I do not feel as if I missed anything. Rome is a huge city with very beautiful buildings and an extensive history. As my first time traveling without the teamwork of my group of girls, Rome was defiantly a lot to handle. I was now the planner, the decision-maker, and also the map reader. I am happy to report that my parents have told me, more than once, that I executed these tasks wonderfully. I believe some of the mistakes that I made only added to the trip, and I can learn from the mistakes that were not very beneficial. Our last night in Rome was some-what sad, but I was very excited to go to Florence the next day, which will be next weeks blog!

When in Rome...

2010-03-25T14:40:00.001-07:00

My true test of adulthood came when I had to plan a four day vacation in Italy for my parents. Needless to say I was very nervous and by the end of the third day of concocting the perfect itinerary I became quite frustrated. I thought the only part involved in planning was booking the place to stay, but now i appreciate the other trips my parents have taken me on, because, through this planning, I realized it takes a lot more effort. Before I could book a hotel i had to research what kind of area it would be in, what things they offer for free, and how much it would cost. Then I would have to figure out how to get to Rome, i.e. looking up train and bus times and buying the tickets. After this i made an hour by hour itinerary (which took up most of my time) because I wanted to impress my parents and make everything perfect. After I finished everything, I was sure that the only thing that could go wrong was if the world were to end. Little did I know that even planning would not prevent the inevitable from happening....

My parents arrived in Rome on Thursday morning, and I met them at the Roma Termini (Rome's Train Station), we then proceeded to our Bed and Breakfast. After getting lost(and then found, thanks to a few nice Italians) because i could not find the buzzer for our hostel, we entered the main doors. I saw that there was an older elevator and a staircase; I chose the stair route because I only had a small backpack, and wanted to race my parents to the top. y parents won the race, and I won the realization of how unfit I am, because I was close to hyperventilation by the time I reached the top. When we entered the Alice in Wonderland Hostel, we were given a lovely surprise message; a woman was still sleeping in our bedroom and we could not put our luggage in the room yet. We had an appointment at the Vatican Museum in an hour, so the manager promised to put our bangs in the room for us, and we left our bags on the small couch, and began our first day in Rome. I thought that I would do the same as Dr. Webb did with us and keep my parent's busy; there fore I planned to go to the Vatican Museum, St. Peter's Basilica, and the Castel San'Pietro to help them adjust to Italy time.

The Vatican Museum was interesting, and filled with a lot of religious art, but was also very confusing. Other museums I have been to have had nice signs telling me where to buy a ticket, where to start, and some even offered me a map. This museum was quite different because it had nothing to help guide Megan the tourist, and brain power was needed. It took about ten minutes for my family and me to find the beginning of the museum, and actually getting through the museum went by quite slowly. The websites do not lie when they explain that going through the museum will take, at the very least, three hours. The museum held paintings, busts, rugs, dressers of previous Popes, and other things relating to the catholic Church's history. The most memorable art of the Vatican Museum was the Sistine Chapel. The Sistine Chapel is a huge room with beautiful frescoed ceilings done by Michelangelo, and is the only room in the museum where it is prohibited to take pictures, or to talk. The apple really must not fall far from the tree, because, like his daughter, my father did some rebellious things in Italy. When he saw that he could not take pictures of the Chapel, he handed me the camera and requested that I take the flash off. Once I fulfilled his request he submerged himself in the crowd of people and began taking snapshots of the world famous fresco. As a true Bahamonde, he did not get caught and we left the room and went through the rest of the museum.

Once my father finished in the gift shop, I took my parents to Saint Peter's Square to people watch and relax. My father's Catholic bones did not like this idea of relaxing when he saw the Basilica, and we headed immediately toward the long line filled with people of different nationalities, nuns, and monks. In the line my father spotted a few Cardinals and pointed them out to me, and I decided to play a practical joke on him. I convinced him that those men were not actual Cardinals, and that they were just beggars in costume hoping to take pictures for profit. It was quite funny how disappointed he got when I told him this false piece of information. After going through security we entered the massive church. It was very adorable to see my father so excited to be somewhere, but there were no fascinating candles for me to light, and my mother is not catholic so we quickly were disinterested. My mother and I got separated from my father, and as we were walking in the rectangular-shaped visitors path, we saw my father sneaking into the mass. Only the lord knows how he manged this, but I thought it was humorous how much of a rebel my father has turned out to be. After a bit of commotion between me and another young American girl who decided to knock my mother over, my mother and I left early to get gelato and sit down, and my father re-appeared ten minutes later. He came proudly bearing the news that the Cardinals were real, and not beggars hoping to earn some money.

The Castel San'Pietro was disappointing on many different levels. The process of buying the tickets was the first disappointing thing of my experience in the Castel. I wanted to impress my parents with my new 'extensive' knowledge of Italian, and I aked the man in the office for two adult tickets and one student ticket to the best of my ability in Italian. He immediately responded in a rude tone "I do not understand you, what do you want?" I then repeated my command in English, he asked me which country I was from, and I obviously replied "American." He proceeded to shake his head and said "American. Easy, no student ticket. Three adults, thank you." I did not how to take this blatant insult, so I grabbed my tickets and entered the castle with my parents. Seeing the whole castle took about thirty minutes because mostly everything was closed. The only thing that was open was the terrace, where we spent most of our time looking at the beautiful panoramic view of Rome. My enjoyment was interrupted when a very strange young girl sat next to me. At first she stared at me; smiling, laughing, and humming a creepy tune which already had me on edge. My breaking point was when she started to stroke my arm with her hand, so i told her to "chill," got up, and told my parents it was time to leave.

After the Castel our feet were tired and bellies were empty, which was when we decided to go to dinner. I tried my best to find an authentic Italian restaurant for a decent price, but looking for one convinced me that Rome is one large tourist trap. I settled for a restaurant that a man was advertising as "fresh," and had decent prices. There was an asterisk next to about half of the items on the menu, so my eyes scrolled down the page to find out what this meant. Apparently everything with an asterisk next to it was frozen, not fresh. My family and I ordered everything fresh, and to my parents surprise I ordered a two course meal. I explained to them that I did not have my daily Margarita meal, and was about to starve. The fresh food that the restaurant served was exceptionally good, I left the restaurant full and leased. For some reason eating a lot of good food does not give me energy, so we decided to go back to the hostel.

Getting back to our hostel was easy, but getting into our room was difficult. As I mentioned earlier, there had been a woman sleeping in our room when we arrived. The manager gave us a key to our room, but failed to mention which one we were to sleep in. Since I knew we would not be sleeping in a room with other people, I just assumed we were going to sleep in the room marked 'privato.' After about five minutes fighting with this door lock, the other girls staying in the hostel came to help us and through process of elimination they found our room. The first day in Rome thus went fairly according to schedule, but I wanted perfection. I wanted to impress my parents and have them love Italy as much as I do. I think that if I had not searched for such perfection both my parents and I would have had a better time. I, once again, learned that, to have a good time, I cannot have an hour by hour schedule, because that just does not allow me to appreciate the magnificence around me. The next day in Rome went a little better, which I will write about next week.

i heart Verona

2010-03-16T15:45:00.001-07:00

I opened my eyes Friday morning and saw Kim peaking out the crack of the door as if she was scared of something in the hallway. A few seconds later, Shannon joined her in this staring contest and I was a little frightened because I had no idea what was going on. Apparently we were sharing the bed and breakfast with a couple of nice looking young men, and the girls were scared to go out of the room in their pajamas to brush their teeth. After realizing what Kim and Jess were doing, I explained to them that they were only men, not hellish animals, and I promised that they would not bite. Although I have never seen anyone dress up so nicely to brush their teeth, Shannon and Kim finally got over their fear and went to the bathroom across the hall. Waking up at 8:00 a.m. Friday morning was tough, but well worth the agony for what we had planned for the day. After the disastrous previous night, we all decided that instead of ‘going with the flow,’ as we are all accustomed to doing, we would each pick one thing we would like to do. Ever since I visited Biltmore Estate in North Carolina and The Vanderbilt Mansion in New York, I had an increasing interest in houses of old money and people of importance. Therefore, when I read that Verona had two castles I jumped for joy. Shannon, Kim, and I all have boy problems back at home that we would like to forget, and because of this we were all in agreement to go to Juliet’s wall and write her a letter. When we were all finally ready, we indulged ourselves in the second benefit of a bed and breakfast, and then we ventured out into the beautiful town of Verona.
While walking, or in my case running, to the 14th century Castelvecchio, I became more excited with every step I took. When it was finally in sight, I was in awe by the size and the impressive condition it was in. I spent a few minutes outside of the castle investigating the previous uses of certain things. There was a very deep ditch that surrounded the whole castle, and the bridge was attached to these large metal beams that seemed to be part of a lever system. I was delighted to discover that I was standing in front of an actual moat and drawbridge! One could only imagine how happy I was to walk over this drawbridge in order to get into the castle. Once I was over the drawbridge, there was an impressive courtyard that led us to the ticket office. Six euro later I was off on my adventure through the ancient castle. The castle was well worth the money I spent to see it, in fact it was so astonishing that I have spent three days trying to describe it, and I have found that words cannot justify what I experienced. What I can say is that it houses some of the most moving art pieces I have seen in Italy thus far, and out on the terrace there are some awesome views of Verona. I truly believe that this place can be enjoyable to all that have souls, or any interest in art and antique architecture.
In the castle, Shannon, Kim, and I were all thinking how romantic it would be to have a boyfriend with us in Verona. After realizing that none of us have a boyfriend, we went to Juliet’s house to ask for her help with our love life. Of course, the Shakespearian play was not based on a true story and nothing similar to that story happened in Verona, but the setting of the play was supposed to be in Verona, therefore they have a house dedicated to the play as a tourist attraction. There are two things that are common to do at her house; to write a letter to Juliet asking for help, and to touch the left breast on Juliet’s statue for good luck. I did both. My letter read something like “Dear Juliet, please break the Bahamonde curse. Love, Megan.” As for the boob grabbing, it was entertaining but I do not feel like I need luck, because I am in Italy having the time of my life.
Our next stop was the lesser-known Roman Arena of the world, which was a very rewarding experience in itself. The Roman Arena was built in the first century AD, and has graciously withstood the tests of time. Not only did I get to sit in this arena where people for centuries have sat, but also, due to the incredible echo the Arena produced, I was able to hear the screams of people on the opposite side. Sitting on the marble structure appreciating everything I just mentioned, a fun yet strange idea came to mind; I wanted to run around the whole coliseum. I proposed this idea to Shannon, knowing that she would be the only one to even consider the idea, and luckily, she agreed. I can now proudly say that I ran around the top of an ancient Roman Arena and did not fall or have a heart attack. After a marathon, photo shoot, and about an hour of relaxation on the marble seats, we left the arena.
The rest of the day was filled with shopping (for Kim), or people watching (for Jess, Shannon and me) in the wonderful Piazza Del’Erbe. The sun went down and our stomachs started to grumble when we decided to find a place to eat dinner. Although I do not remember the name of the place, I do remember that it was a Disney theme and we had a nice waiter who spoke a good amount of English. At dinner I was feeling a bit adventurous and ordered pasta with truffles and donkey meat (both a specialty of Verona). I have to say that what I expected was completely different from what I feel about the truffle and donkey meat. Since truffles, a special kind of mushroom, are so expensive in the United States I was expecting them to taste heavenly, but in my opinion they taste as if it was crunchy dirt. On the other hand, I reluctantly have to say that donkey meat was actually pretty good; it tasted like very soft form of chicken.
After eating and talking for three hours, Shannon, Jess, Kim and I left the restaurant but decided that we did not want to go back to the bed and breakfast just yet. Since we were on vacation, we decided to find a place to get a drink, and only had to walk a couple of steps to find the perfect place. Picking this place was very easy; it had a bunch of handsome boys outside of it, and they were all Italian, so Bekah’s rule of ‘eating where the Italians eat’ was not broken. The place wound up being a German restaurant, and since the Germans are known for their beer, Shannon and I ordered one. Also, against our better judgment, we ordered chocolate fondue. The beer was pretty bitter, but the chocolate fondue was the best dessert I think I have ever had. This bitter-sweet dessert was the perfect ending to this day, so we returned to our hotel and fell asleep.
The next day we went to the other side of town to see the Giardino Giusti. On the way to the renaissance-style garden, we passed over a very charming bridge with a wonderful view of the river. While looking over the side of the bridge, I noticed there was a place beside the river where people can sit and admire the landscape, and I immediately ran to it. A few minutes later the other girls followed me, and here we were able to take many pictures of the naturally beautiful landscape of Verona. We sat in this spot for about two hours sunbathing, relaxing, and taking in the beautiful landscape. This was the most relaxing time of my trip, and I was very reluctant to leave.
That lovely, tranquil detour was perfect for what we were about to encounter. For the first time our map guide Kim misdirected us, and we found ourselves climbing stone steps in the suburbs of Verona. It was not until this nice elderly Italian man told us that we were on someone’s property that we knew we were actually going the wrong way. Thankfully, this man was just as nice as the Italians in Sansepolcro and actually walked us to the road that the Garden was on to make sure we did not get lost again. The Giardino Giusti was not very impressive at first sight. The statues on the first level of the garden were under construction, and due to winter the flowers were not in bloom. Little did we know that there were three levels of the garden, each with its own special attribute. On the first level, once explored, one can find an old chapel inside of the mountainside. The second level of the garden is where the entrance of the tower up to the third level of the garden. In this tower there are windows into an old house of some sort, which was very interesting to me because it seemed untouched. The third level was my favorite level because it had a wonderful panoramic view of Verona. I can fortunately say that this was only the first half of my stay in Verona, and there are many more memories I will share in my next blog.
After the Garden, we were all exhausted tried to regain energy by eating lunch. The calories did not do their intended job, so we returned to the bed and breakfast for a nap. I was woken up by Shannon to eat dinner around 8:00 p.m., and was less than enthusiastic to go out on the town. Since we bought an expensive lunch, we were all in agreement that we would not spend over 10 euro on dinner. Shannon, Jess, Kim and I stopped at a place that looked like a pizzeria, but it turned out being a whole different, humorous experience in itself. The restaurant wound up having a specialty menu that offered burgers, fries, and a soda for only 8 euro. Since I have been craving some good American food, I gave in and ordered it. When the waitress brought me the food, I suddenly realized how the world views Americans. My glass of soda was HUGE, and I am sure that I could have poured a whole gallon of soda in it. Unless the king-sized burger was occupying some space on the plate, my pizza-pan sized plate was filled with fried potatoes. It was the most food I have seen on one plate my whole time in Italy, and it was a funny reminder of why America is the biggest nation in the world. After eating most of our food like typical Americans would, once again the calories did not do their job so we went back to the bed and breakfast to sleep.
That next morning we woke up to destruction and disorder. It was so quiet the night before that we thought we were sleeping alone; but we were very wrong. Three of the most destructive grandmas decided to stay at the same bed and breakfast as us, and they created damage and commotion wherever they went. When Jess went to the bathroom to brush her teeth, one of the grannies ferociously knocked on the door and kicked her out, saying that she had to take her medicine. Upon returning to the bathroom after the granny finished, Jess found the toilet flusher broken and the bathroom floor flooded with water. When I went in the kitchen to get my daily dose of coffee, I found that the coffee machine was broken! I was so confused because I have the nicest, most gentle grandma the world could offer and could not imagine any women of this age to be so mean and incendiary. Thankfully it was our last night sleeping there, but we were all so worried since they were such terrible old women that they would blame the things they broke on us poor, young women.
On this trip I learned that in a small town like Verona it is nice to have a list of things to do with a lax schedule. I think that if I had an hour-by-hour itinerary to follow I would not have had such a pleasant, relaxed time, nor would I have appreciated the things that I experienced as much as I do. It is also helpful to be aware of Italian words that would appear on maps, and to have the telephone number of the place you are sleeping in. I know that I will never, like many other trips I have taken thus far, forget my time in Verona or the very important lessons that I learned in my time spent there.

Buses, Trains, and Prostitutes...Oh my!

2010-03-09T13:46:00.001-08:00

My experiences in Italy so far have been fairly easy; most of them have been paid for, and all of them have been planned by other people. My weekend trip to Verona was quite different, not only did we have to plan our own activities, but we also had to book the hotel and find out how to get there. The group of girls that I went with (Jess, Kim, and Shannon) designated each person to plan one thing before we departed. Shannon and Jess searched for a nice bed and breakfast, and also checked bus and train times. My job was to search for fun things to do, to find out when those things were open, and how much they would cost. Kim did not have to do any pre-planning because she is the only one in our group who is not directionally challenged, so she was our guide through Verona.
Each passing day went by fairly quickly, bringing the day of our anticipated adventure nearer and nearer. Wednesday night I packed my clothing and other necessities, and woke up Thursday morning with only two things to do: go to class and eat lunch. However, this was not the same for the other the girls staying here, for they decided to pack much more than I had. After our Justice and Liberty class, they all ran upstairs to finish packing their duffle bags and suitcases while I stood there with my small backpack ready to go. Reflecting back on this, I may seem confident about brining this small bag, but I was actually rather nervous at the time because I was convinced I was missing something. After they finished packing their things, we all had to run to the bus station because they only allotted themselves three minutes before the bus left.
The bus and first train ride went smoothly. We got to the bus stop on time, and the train from Arezzo to Bologna arrived with time to spare. The only thing that was semi-stressful was removing people from our reserved seating on the first train ride, and separating from the other group of girls who were staying in Bologna. When we arrived at Bologna’s train station, we were happy to see that our train to Verona was on time, and departing in forty minutes. Our train was located on binario (track) number seven, so we ate some snacks and waited patiently for our train to come. After talking a bit, we realized that our train was departing in five minutes, but it was nowhere to be found. We then stood up to look for the status of our train, and saw the word ovest next to it. Assuming that ovest meant late, we sat back down and waited for our train to come. Ten minutes passed and we started to feel nervous, so we looked back on the departure board to ease our stomachs. To our demise our train to Verona was not there anymore, which means it had already left.
We were completely blown away that a train could pass us by and not even realize it, and with this problem, as we have with others, we called Bekah. We spelled out the word ovest to her, and she told us that it meant west, not late. Apparently the train station in Bologna is so big that it has two platforms, est (east) and ovest (west), and we were waiting on the wrong platform for our train. After hearing this terrible news, we scurried to the departure board to see when the next train to Verona was. The good news was that there was another train to Verona, but the bad news was that it left in two hours. With this bad news came more stress, because we had to call the owners of the bed and breakfast to tell them we would not be arriving at the time we originally said. This may seem strange that we would have to call to say we will be late, but in Italy the owner of a bed and breakfast asks for a time so he can be there to let us in. If we did not show up on time, and did not call to say we would be running late, the owner would leave and we decided not to come, leaving us with nowhere to sleep. Calling the owner would be rather easy if we were smart enough to think to bring the number, but of course, we forgot it. We called the omnicient Bekah to solve our problem, and she told us the number and also lectured us on how important this number is. Now, with all of these problems solved, and most of them done so by Bekah, we waited for our next train to come on binnario three --- ovest. There are two lessons I have learned from this first part of my trip that I hope I will remember in the future: ALWAYS have the number of the place you are going to be sleeping in, and NEVER assume the definition of a foreign word.
The train to Verona was fun; we were all very excited to have made it on the right train, or any train. On it, we listened to music, made a few jokes, and even braided each other’s hair. After sitting on a train for a couple hours, and getting yelled at quite a few times by the attendant for having our feet on the chairs, we FINALLY arrived in Verona. I wish I could say, ‘and then we lived happily ever after,’ but unfortunately I cannot. After walking off the platform into the actual station, we realized that the map I printed out did not have our street name on it, and Shannon forgot the MapQuest directions she had printed out. Since we arrived at 11:00 p.m. the tourist office was closed, leaving us with next to no hope. Since we now had the number of our bed and breakfast, we called it to ask how to get there from the train station. This was another reminder that we were in Italy, because the owner spoke no English, and he did not understand my broken Italian. After a three minute ‘conversation’, he told me that I was not supposed to be at the train station, that I was supposed to be on Via Marconi, and hung up.
We searched the train station for some kind of map, and finally I found one behind an ad of some kind. The map was behind plexiglass, and because of this we had to try to memorize the route of our hotel which did not seem to be too far from where we were, and Jess even took a picture of it on her camera so we could look back at it, if needed. Within first few meters of walking, we encountered a very sad problem of Italy face-to-face; prostitution. In Italy, the act of selling yourself is not a crime, but for someone to purchase a prostitute is a crime. The government is sensitive to the fact that the prostitute is not selling herself for fun; she has a larger, more personal problem behind it, such as having a family to feed, but they are not sensitive to desperate, despicable men. As we were walking on (what was believed to be) the street we were supposed to be on, we passed two prostitutes, one of which was getting picked up as we walked by. Being a person who never thinks before she speaks, I shouted ‘OH NO!’ at the sight of it. I immediately felt horrible, but we kept walking in search of the street we had to turn on.
We walked for about twenty minutes before we looked at Jess’ camera to see if we were in the right direction. Sadly, we did not look at this picture before we left the train station, and when we saw that the picture was blurry, our hearts sank. I called my parents to look up MapQuest directions while the rest of the group went into a bar to ask how to get to our street, Via Marconi. My parents are a little slow when it comes to technology, so much so that we got directions from non-English speaking Italians faster than my parents could find out how to MapQuest. Thankfully we were only about ten minutes away from where we were supposed to be, and got to our bed and breakfast without any problems. The owner was even nice enough to meet us on the corner of the street and walk us back to place that we would sleep.
The place we stayed in is called B&B Divina, and when I walked into the apartment I was stunned by how nice it was. It cost me 70 euro to stay there for three days, so I was expecting the quality to be average since the price was so reasonable, but my assumption was very wrong. The place was very well decorated, and our room was huge! Not to mention that they had air fresheners that smelled amazing, and my bed was indescribably comfortable. There is a saying “you hit rock bottom before you reach the top,” and I feel like this expression describes my trip to Verona. Although getting there made me want to out my hair, staying there was amazing, and too much to write about in one blog entry.

It's a tiger, It's a lion, It's a....wolf??

2010-03-02T14:39:00.000-08:00

Approaching the Duomo di Firenze was increasingly intimidating, and as we grew nearer I could not believe I, Megan “Mopey” Bahamonde, was actually going to climb it! I was informed by Kelsey that there were 463 stairs to climb, which is the equivalent of 200 stair masters! While waiting in line we were approached by American men in the Navy who happened to be in line behind us. After talking with them for a little, I found a climbing buddy who shared the same fear of heights as I do, then we paid for our tickets and started our climb. Kayley, the Navy boy, and I climbed up the narrow, dark stairs as fast as we could to the midpoint of the climb. At the midpoint, we were lead to a balcony of sorts that was right below the fresco, the Last Judgment, done by Giorgio Vasari. Above my head was a fantastic historical piece of artwork that not many people see in their lifetime, and of course, as a child in a toy store, my first reaction to this was to touch it. After touching the fresco I was nudged by my terrified climbing buddy to keep moving, so my hiking continued. I have to admit, the last part was a struggle for my climbing buddy and me. Every so often there are square shaped holes in the walls (which I assume are for regulating air), allowing the curious to know how far they are and the fearful to know how scared they must become. Being afraid was an understatement for my climbing buddy when we finally reached the top, but I felt quite liberated. Contrary to my expression in photographs, I was very excited and happy to reach the top. Climbing the duomo was extremely rewarding; not only did I get my exercise for the day, but was also able to see all of Firenze from where I was standing. I have now made a personal goal to go up every climbable duomo in each city I go to.
Next on my list to conquer was the Uffizi museum. The Uffizi was built by the Medici family in 1581 for offices and to hold bureaucratic meetings, but now houses some of the most important works of art in the world. We arrived at the museum around 8:30 a.m. and did not get into the museum until around 10:00 a.m. This was due to the airport-like security everyone had to pass in order to get in. Apparently very angry people decide to attack the art, or very bad people try to steal it, so now extra security is needed to protect the timeless art pieces. After getting through security there were signs pointing us to where we wanted to go; a hallway and staircase later we were on the hall with the Medici treasures. The top of the hallway’s walls were lined with portraits of wealthy merchants, bureaucrats, and others of the wealthy class. Only wealthy people appeared in these portraits because in the past, portraits were a symbol of wealth. Grecian bust sculptures also lined the hallway, adding a luring effect to the large marble sculpture at the end of the long hallway. Jess and me, being the psychology majors of the group, walked down the row of sculptures discussing the facial expressions of each statue. We would say things such as “he looks sad maybe him and that girl statue, that also looks sad, just broke up.” I can already tell that we are the future Sigmund Freud’s of psychology. After analyzing all of the statues, Jess and I went into the side rooms with the paintings in them. After going into the third, then fourth room we started to notice a trend; all of the paintings had a Christian theme. Only being able to handle so many depictions of the crucifixion and the Virgin Mary, we decided to sit and wait for the rest of the group. Shannon found us sitting on a bench, and told us she was planning on staying for a while longer. After hearing this news, Jess, Kim, and I decided to do what we do best; shop.
Bargaining is an accepted practice in Italian markets; the only problem is getting the courage to do it. The first stand I approached was a little intimidating; the shop owner was a very old, angry looking man. When I finally grew the courage, I put on my best poker face, marched up to the shop, pointed at the scarf I wanted and said quanto costo (what does it cost) in my most convincing voice. Unfortunately, I had not prepared myself for a reply, so when he spit out a number larger than I am used to, my first instinct was to just say no. To my surprise, he immediately said another number that I understood, dieci (ten), and after I repeated the word no again to see if that could get me anywhere. It did get me somewhere; down to cinque (five), so I accepted his offer, reached into my pocket, and realized I only had a fifty. With it being my first bargaining experience, I felt bad to give him a fifty after arguing the price down, so I just walked away. After some practice, my shyness went away and I was a bargaining machine. Left and right I felt as if I was tricking the merchants into lowering their prices to what I wanted to pay for them. American tourists need to realize that those merchants are there for a reason; they need tourist’s money. Once you have that knowledge, you are most likely to get the price you want to pay, not the price they offer you at first. After shopping we caught the earliest train, and returned safely home in Sansepolcro, which was a very nice feeling after a long weekend in Florence.
After returning home, we all had to get back into the swing of things. Most of us had to read the rest of Italy’s Sorrow, and do whatever chore we had for that week. I was very happy to read that I was kitchen monitor for the week. Being able to control what can be done in the kitchen by girls who are 2-3 years older than I am is loads of fun. I can take the “John Rose” approach, and hand out fake fines to people who neglect dishes, and I can also pretend to be a secret spy and track down those who leave dishes in the sink. It was very amusing for the first day, but then when people started getting mad, and more dishes started piling in the sink, it became less fun and more upsetting. I handled this stressful situation as I have handled previous situations; talked to Bekah. She told me to write a sweet rule sheet for the girls and hang it up in the kitchen. I nervously did as she told me, hung up the rule sheet, and ran away before anybody could see that I had done it. Once they all saw it, one by one they asked if I had been the one who posted the new rule sheet. I reluctantly said yes, but even after the sign there were no changes. Realizing that the nice, passive approach was not effective I decided a more aggressive approach and started yelling at people who left their dishes in the sink. Sadly, I believe this method was more successful because frankly many of the girls were sick of hearing my voice. With every success comes a downfall, and I was nick-named the “Dish Nazi”. Knowing every one of us is learning about Nazi Germany, this was not the most flattering of nicknames, but it was comical.
The week of my reign as the ‘Dish Nazi’ was quite stressful, and I was happy to find out that my Saturday was going to be spent in Sienna. The bus ride was an easy two hours, and luckily it was the nicest day Italy has had in a long time. Although I only spent about six hours in Sienna, I do not feel as if I missed anything. When we got off of the bus, we were taken to Saint Catherine’s church. The church seemed emptier than the other elaborate churches I have been to, but had two distinct characteristics; flags and Saint Catherine’s head. Honestly, the latter really spooked me, but the stories behind the flags were interesting. Sienna is divided into many different parts, each having its own name and symbol. Each part competes in the annual palio competition where they race horses, and the flags in that church are hung in the order of the victors. After that, we were taken to the Piazza del Campo where the palio is taken place. This square is the perfect place to sit and relax in the hilly city of Sienna. While the rest of the girls were in the art museum located in the piazza, I stayed behind to sun bathe with Bekah in the square. Sienna, like most cities in Italy, has a very tall tower to climb that the girls and I made plans to climb after the museum. After an hour of waiting, they were finally done with the museum, and my goal to climb every tower was one more step toward being accomplished. Although this tower was not as demanding physically, it was much more demanding psychologically. The stairs of the old building really reflected the body structure of past Italians; they were very slim and short. The whole climb was a little uncomfortable as I did not have much room to move, and I had to duck down for most of the way. Although psychologically demanding, I do believe the climb was more than worth it. The view was amazing, much better than the one in Firenze. From each side of the tower you could see the different parts of Sienna. From one side there was a lot of greenery and farmland, and from the other there were many buildings, churches, and houses. This was the perfect ending to my week, and I am very glad I had the opportunity, which also inspired a new goal: to go to an Italian soccer game!

Florence Part Uno

2010-02-23T09:56:00.001-08:00

This week has been fairly rough; so much homework, so little time. Although I enjoy learning about WWII, just looking at the 570 page book, Italy’s Sorrow, was overwhelming. However, once I actually began reading it, 570 pages did not seem like too much. The book is a brilliantly written account of several people’s lives during the war on both the Allied and Axis side, which is a very easy read for a history buff like me. On top of that, I had a whole chapter’s worth of workbook assignments in Italian, a book to read for Italy Today, and to plan my upcoming weekend in Florence. After doing a lot of whining, I realized that if I spent more time working and less time whining that I may actually get some things done. Who would have known that tactic actually worked!? I finished all of my work, except planning my trip to Florence which was left in the hands of Kayley, who admitted to me that she enjoys museums and history as much as I do. On a more positive note, my classes are going very well despite the amount of homework I have afterward. I feel as if I am learning more and more of the Italian language as the days go by, with thanks to our wonderful Professoressa Franchesca. Not only does she tolerate us girls, but also gracefully answers any (and usually there are many) questions we ask. This may seem like the basic student-teacher function, but in Italy their teaching style is different; it is more lecture based than structure based. Thanks to her willingness to teach, I find myself able to hold small conversations with people and make my way around Italy. My new favorite words are ‘questo’ (this) and ‘dove’e’ (where is). These words make it easier to ask questions when I need help or get lost; the latter happens quite often.
After a semi-stressful week, a weekend in Florence was just what I needed. The city of Florence was created during the Julius Caesar’s dominion as a trading post. After the fall of the Roman Empire, Florence and Italy alike went through a ‘Dark Age’ until its economic success created an elite class, namely the Medici family. The Medici was successful bankers who funded the development of churches and creation of artwork. Some examples of the artists of Florence are Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Dante, Botticelli, Donatello and others whose work can still be seen throughout the city. This city’s history and culture was a perfect mixture for everyone here, having at least one thing everyone likes. On Friday evening, after arriving at our hotel, I went to Kayley’s room as she was planning her day for tomorrow. She told me several things Hillary and she wanted to do such as the Cattedrale de Santa Maria Novella, the Palazzo Davanzati, the Museo di San Marco, the Cattedrale di Santa Maria Del Fiore, the Uffitsi, and last but not least the market. I immediately told her that I was sticking with her for this trip and I was excited to do so. Saturday morning we all were up and ready by 8:00 a.m. and ate breakfast together. It seems like every experience is a learning experience here because the Italian hotel breakfast is different from American breakfast. The girls and I hurried downstairs for our waffles and pancakes only to find coffee, orange juice, croissants, and ham. Once again we had to remind ourselves that we are in Italy, and ate our Italian breakfast that was quite good. Our favorite thing about this breakfast was the mini Nutella packets that, embarrassingly enough, we all grabbed to put in our purse as a souvenir.
After breakfast Kayley, Hillary, and I started our walk towards the Cattedrale de Santa Maria Novella. The Cattedrale de Santa Maria was built on the site of the 9th-century oratory of Santa Maria delle Vigne in the middle of the 14th century. Built by two Dominican Friars and designed by Leon Alberti (no, not the owner of the house I’m living in) the church stills stands with its green and white marble exterior. What blew the minds of my friends and I are that they built this gigantic marble stone church without any of the technology that we have today. I can barley pick up my backpack let alone a huge marble slab and arrange it in an intricate way. The exterior of the church was nothing compared to the inside; it had frescos everywhere, along with crucifixes galore and many tombs of priests. My favorite part of the Santa Maria Novella was the fresco behind the altar. Looking to the right, there were angels looking down upon their loved ones on earth, and to the left was all the different levels of purgatory. Of course, it could have meant something completely different than I interpreted, but for me that was the powerful story the artist was portraying. After looking at all the church I paid a small donation to light another candle and pray for my family, which has become a habit for me. It is weird because before I came here I was not very religious and now I go to churches almost every weekend, light candles and pray.
Upon leaving the Santa Maria Novella I noticed that the Palazzo Davanzati was close, so I separated from the group and found my way there with Kelsey. The Palazzo Davanzati was once the home of a noble family, but now is a museum meant to illustrate a traditional Florentine house. It is decorated with furniture that has been donated or taken out of museums. I was really excited to see this because I am very interested in the history of culture, but I found myself a bit disappointed. First off, I went there with the cognition that it was free, but when I arrived I had to pay two euro. After paying the two euro I was told I could only go on the ground and first floor, the other three could only be viewed with a reservation. The ground floor was decorated with pictures of the people who opened the museum and a chair or two, and the second floor had a bedroom, a dining room, and a room filled with lace from around the world. It was very interesting, but not much to see. I tried to get Kelsey to sneak up to the other floors, but Kelsey being more reserved than I, refused and also reminded me that I am not to get arrested in Italy. In one of the rooms, I did notice that above the fire place they had family crests and the Davanzati married into the Alberti family twice, which I was fairly proud of because I am living in an Alberti home.
Kayley is obsessed with anything to do with office supplies, and when I called her to see where she was I was not surprised when she told me she was in a paper store. When I finally found the paper store, I noticed a couple of people around the owner. When I inquired as to what he was doing, I discovered he was making a design for his paper and that everything with design in the store is handmade. He pours wall paper glue into a tub, then drops color into the glue until it spreads, then he repeats this process until he has used all the colors he wanted to. After this, he takes a stick and makes whatever design he feels like, then puts a piece of paper on top of it and there was his designed paper! While the paper lover looked around the store, I tried my hardest to talk Italian to the owner, until he revealed that he spoke English, Italian, French, and Spanish. After speaking what Kelsey calls “Spitalian” (a mixture of Spanish and Italian) with him for a half hour, all the girls made their purchases and the nice man decided to give each of us a free sheet of his paper. On top of that, he gave us a VIP card that gives us a discount every time we go in. I was very pleased by this, so I gave him more business by buying a couple more things.
The fun detour preceded something I enjoyed very much, the Museo di San Marco. In the Museo di San Marco allowed us to tour an old monastery and see the rooms of the monks who lived there, as well as the tools and hymn books they used. I was very excited to see the different frescos in each room, and, like every other museum I go to, I had a favorite room. It had one of the largest frescos, a hole in the floor which allowed me to see an underground fresco, and you could see the garden from the window. When we reached the last room of the monastery, we received a phone call from the other girls informing us that they were hungry, so we all went out to lunch. The restaurant we ate at was called Il Ghilardeli, it was a very nice restaurant that fit every one of Bekah’s criteria. There everybody got either pizza or some form of carbohydrate and protein, the perfect combination for what we were about to do next; climb the Duomo of the Cattedrale di Santa Maria Del Fiore!
To be continued….

Surprises, Surprises

2010-02-16T12:54:00.000-08:00

There have been many surprises so far on my adventure in Italy. The first day at the Palazzo we were told by Dr. Webb that we could not go to sleep until 9:30pm! It felt like the end of the world, the first thing we wanted to do was sleep after staying up for almost twenty-four hours! It seemed harsh, but Dr. Webb had our best interests in mind because jet-lag can be a very terrible thing. The one incentive that kept us all awake was another surprise that was offered to us by John Rose (Dr. Webb’s British, and quite hilarious husband.) The only catch to his surprise was that it was coming at 8:00pm, so we had to do as much as possible to stay awake until then, and Dr. Webb had many things planned. Between the times we arrived and our surprise we had a tour, moved in to our rooms, ate our delicious lunches, and went to the Pam (a local grocery store here). The rest was a blur except for the pizza that Bekah (our Residence director) ordered us that I ate WITH the cheese on it. At 8:00pm the doorbell rang as we were eating and were told our surprise was there. We all ran to the stairway to see what it was and then what we heard was something astonishing; John Rose had invited his friends, who were opera singers, to dinner! I giggled in my head when I heard this because my father forced me to listen to opera before I left to ‘prepare’ me for Italy, and there it was on my first day! Hearing opera is a lot different in person; it is more powerful and romantic.
The girls and I had to wait until Sunday morning for our other secret surprise (how spoiled are we?) We were told that it would be the best thing we would ever experience and it was a shame that we were doing it so early in life. Naturally, we were all very excited for our surprise and we shamefully tried to make sense of clues and guess where we were going. In one of my classes, Italy Today, Sara taught us about an important Italian celebration called Carnivale. Carnivale, coming from the Latin
“carnem levare” meaning to avoid meat, is a medieval tradition to dress up and celebrate the goodbye to meat during Ash Wednesday and Lent. After she taught us the meaning behind it and surprised us with Carnivale pastries, she told us that the biggest and best celebration is held in Venice. After saying that, all of our eyeballs met in excitement because we thought we figured it out. Our suspicion was confirmed on the bus ride to our surprise destination when Dr. Webb presented us with masks to wear and John Rose read an article about the Venetian Carnivale. When we arrived in Venice all of our eyes lit up; once again I set my eyes upon another sight that was just indescribable.
Venice was more than just gondolas and waterways for streets, it has a visible historical significance that pictures and movies tend to leave out. The buildings around Saint Marco’s square were just a taste, but all I needed to feel like I was somewhere magnificent. Saint Mark’s Basilica, Venice’s most famous Catholic Church, was one of my favorite sights because of its detail. The building had frescos, statues, carvings, and pillars everywhere I looked; it was unlike anything I had seen! While I was looking at all the Square had to offer, I was distracted by the parade coming my way. It was so funny because I heard drums blaring and then saw a man dancing on stilts with a dead fox on his head. It was like I had the dancing, hairy Italian version of Davy Crockett right before my eyes. After that was over Kim, Shannon, Jess, Bekah, and I went to find some food. Bekah said there were three things you should look for when searching for an authentic restaurant: the menus should not have any English, they should not be on the main street, and actual Italians should be eating there. After searching for authenticity and price we finally found this small restaurant and we sat down. Bekah warned us that in Italy sitting in a restaurant, getting water, and eating their bread each have a separate charge. Oh, the things I take advantage of in America.
After we finished eating our lasagna, we walked around and ran into some interesting-looking people. As I mentioned earlier, Carnivale is the holiday where people dress up to divert their identity to something they want to be, and the people did not take this lightly. Unlike the inelaborate costumes of Halloween in America, the costumes of Carnivale look like they came from a history book. The costumes usually included a mask, of head covering (the head coverings were so large I do not understand how some of the people got them to stay on their heads) and a colorful and elaborate 16th century style dress that match the mask. The people behind the costumes, in my opinion, should really try out for America’s Next Top Model because as soon as someone took out a camera they struck a beautiful pose. Perhaps it is the admirable Italian confidence that gave them this magnificent posing ability. In the end, I do think that going to Venice during Carnivale is one of the best things I will ever experience and I am very glad Dr. Webb sacrificed some extra money for us to able to go. I have never seen anything like it before and I probably never will again. I feel repetitive when I say that it is something indescribable, but that is just the impression Italy has on me. It is something like a photograph, it describes the setting but no one will ever know what really happened unless they were there. I know I will remember this trip forever, and to aide my memory I bought a pink and black Carnivale mask!
Although a lot happens during the week between my roommates and me, most of it usually just involves cracking jokes to distract us from studying; nothing I can remember or should write about. Normally we all have a lot of energy and are generally a happy group of girls, but this past weekend we came out of the “honeymoon stage” and have lost a lot of our positive energy; nothing unusual that we were not warned about. On Friday Dr. Webb planned a trip to Anghiari, a small town just outside Sansepolcro, but as the week went on our enthusiasm to go to this town declined. Since snow fell for the majority of the day on Friday, we decided not to go, and instead we spent the day “doing” homework. Saturday we decided to venture out and went to Arezzo. Albeit initially I was not overally thrilled with the prospect of going, I was very glad we did! The most exciting thing I feel I should mention is that I got the “trash bag” jacket I mentioned in my previous blog, and for only 12 euro! Although at this time I was out of the “honeymoon stage” at that moment getting this jacket seemed like the best thing in the world. I am kind of embarrassed to say that I wear it sometimes and pretend to be Italian, although it never really works because I am not the least bit graceful. The second thing I think I should mention about Arezzo is our walk through the Cathedral. Although the outside was extremely detailed, the inside was like a brilliant piece of artwork. The ceilings were painted with stories from the bible, and the walls had decorated tombs of old priests, and to the left of the entryway there was a place designated for candles. There had to be at least five dozen candles lit that contrasted beautifully with the dimly light church. There was the option to buy a glass protected candle for two euro or have a simple wax candle for a small donation, so I donated some money and lit my candle and said a prayer. It sounds like a really basic activity but the combination of the atmosphere of the church with lighting my candle felt like something really special. The third and final thing I will mention about Arezzo, although there are many other things to mention, is that the girls and I found the bus all by ourselves! It not only sounds like a simple task, but now we have learned that it is a simple task and we all felt very proud. As for the sad feeling my roommates and I are feeling right now, we are not too worried about it. Bekah told us that it was a very normal thing, and we know we have each other to lean on whenever we need each other. Also, we have taken up bike riding as a stress reliever and now call ourselves the “Bike Brigade”, and I am happy to say that it is working well, we have so much fun doing it. Today we were feeling pretty reckless and went down steep hills and got lost on purpose. I am very glad to be here, and I am anticipating what will happen next!

First few days in Italia

2010-02-09T12:19:00.000-08:00

Before I left I was overwhelmed with emotion, I felt horrible because I had no sympathy for my mother who has been crying for weeks or my friends who have been begging me not to go. The only emotion that was running through my body was excitement to be in the walled-in medieval town of Sansepolcro. Two days before I was scheduled to leave I was very happy with how I ‘lightly’ packed and only packed what I ‘needed.’ That feeling only stayed until I weighed my luggage and the scale read 85 pounds. This required me to re-pack my suitcase with what I felt was next to nothing. Luckily that feeling was replaced with joy due to my going away party, which allowed me to say my goodbyes to my closest friends and family. The next day, I received a phone call from Kevin who called to inform me that due the recent snow storm the airport had to cancel my flight. I wish I could have taken a photograph of my mother’s face when I told her the news about my flight cancellation; it was as if she had just seen God. Monday morning I woke up to my mother telling me all the things we had to do before I went to the airport, including but not limited to: getting Starbucks, going to the bank together, and calling my grandmother. I arrived at the airport thirty minutes late because of my mother’s detours and found my group waiting in line to check in. To my surprise, the packing and unpacking of my suitcase the night of my party actually worked because my bag checked in with three pounds to spare. Once I checked in, I said my goodbyes and was off to my very long and tiring adventure to Sansepolcro.
Two planes and a long bus ride later I was greeted by Dr. Webb (the program director and a professor) and Sara Andreini (professor and the Italian backbone of this program) outside the walls of Sansepolcro. As the group and I were walking to the Palazzo Alberti, I looked around and knew immediately that my life here would be very different than it was in North Carolina. The smell of smoke, the clothes, the people, and even the little shops in the town reminded me that I am no longer in the United States. When I came to the doors of the Palazzo I realized that pictures do not justify the building; its size and beauty are so remarkable not even a camera can capture it. Even the glass elevator the group and I sent our luggage up to avoid the hassle of the stairs was shocking. With Dr. Webb as the tour guide, I walked through the building and was astonished by how well the interior design program at Meredith decorated the rooms. The rooms are painted with very neutral colors, off-white single beds or bunk beds depending on the room, and huge armoires to fit our large amount of wardrobe in. It was a nice to walk into a calm toned setting after a semi-hectic day. One can imagine how hard it was to pick the room I was going to stay in, but I am glad I picked the one I did because it is very warm, pretty big, and close to both bathrooms. The three crazy girls I chose my room with are Kim, Shannon, and Jess; who I think are a good match to live with because they are all laid back and have a good sense of humor. I think living with them has already made me feel as if the Palazzo is a home, and not just somewhere I am staying for three months.
The first thing I learned (which did not take much time) about Italy is that many people smoke. The first thing I smell when I go outside is smoke, and the last thing I smell before I go to bed is smoke in my hair. The Italian view of smoking is very opposite of the American view; the only similarity I have observed is that there is no smoking inside of the buildings. Another thing someone should know for his or her own safety is that the Italian way of driving is completely different than what an American is used to. They drive very fast and only come to a stop at a stop light or if the driver almost hits someone running a stop sign. For example, the bus driver on the way to Sansepolcro from Rome rode in the S.O.S. lane along with other drivers to get through traffic more quickly. But this does not mean that the Italians are worse drivers than Americans; I have yet to see a car accident of any kind, I have only heard breaks that may need changing. The cars here are different too as many of them are small, like the Smart Car or Mini Cooper, and I have come to the conclusion that the reason for this is that it is easier to get through the narrow streets as well as park mostly anywhere they can. My roommates and I think that the cars here are very cute and we get excited when the different colored tiny cars are seen.
My favorite thing about living in the Palazzo so far is our chef Margarita’s cooking. I was worried before I came here that I was not going to like any of the food because I have not eaten cheese in many years (I do not like the taste) and I typically dislike Italian food. Well, I am VERY glad I told myself I would try everything once because with or without cheese her cooking is something indescribable, I am convinced that she could take the most disgusting thing and turn it into the most amazing thing one could ever taste if she wanted to. I was also surprised that Italian food does not have as much spice or cheese as it does in America. I was expecting to be handed a plate of cheese and sauce with a mysterious green leaf in it every day but from my experience so far it is the opposite. There is one rumor about Italian cuisine that is true; their coffee is amazing. I normally prefer a stronger tasting coffee, and with a lack of words their coffee is the strongest thing I have ever tasted. I have been to a couple bars (coffee shops that sell pastries and alcohol) since I have been here and their ‘specialty drinks’ are different than America’s; but in a good way. My co-workers at Starbucks would be pleased to hear that soy and non-fat milk are not usual here, and most of the drinks are made with heavy cream. My first night here the girls and I went out to a place called Happy Bar, and my roommate Shannon and I were surprised when our hot chocolate was as thick as pudding! It was quite delicious, but very hard to finish because it was very heavy.
Eating all this good food is not something to just sit on, so usually my roommates and I go on walks after class to adventure. Many of these adventures have wound up being costly because the shops on the streets have such cute clothes, and I have never been one who has been good at saving money. This nasty habit burns through my wallet but also helps with my Italian. When I went out to buy my boots, I brought a note card with me that had everything I thought I would need to say. Although the note card did not help me slow down her speech, I was able to say ciao and quanto costo which helped me through the purchase. Other than my pair of boots, I bought a long sleeved purple shirt, and groceries. It does not sound like I have bought a lot but the euro exchange rate is around sixty-five cents to one euro, so everything is more expensive. Also, the walks with the girls usually involve plenty of picture taking, cold air blowing in our faces, and stares coming from the townspeople. The stares are not a bad thing, we were told the Italian people love Americans; one person on the street actually came up to us and screamed “I LOVE AMERICA!” The girls and I are not necessarily hard to pick out of the crowd as Americans; although most of us have brown hair and fair skin, our clothes are distinctly different from the Italians, as is the way we carry ourselves. What gives us away are our pea-coats and jeans; the Italians wear longer jackets and colored jeans or tights more than blue jeans. In my opinion, the Italians dress better than anyone I have ever seen, but that idea varies within the group. My favorite thing that they wear are the water proof down jackets that the girls and I call “trash bag jackets” because they look and feel like a black trash bag. Maybe I will get a trash bag jacket by the end of this journey, who knows!