tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89837104443833225622024-03-13T19:34:44.679-07:00A Semester With a View(Siena feminamque cano... )Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-14450219066405357772012-06-15T16:14:00.001-07:002012-06-15T16:14:11.750-07:00Readjustment: Or, Italy 4evaYou know what's crazy? I've been back in the ol' US of A for nearly five weeks. It boggles my mind to think that I've been home so long, especially since Italy still invades my thoughts every, oh, five minutes. I became that annoying girl that won't shut up about her study abroad experience before I'd been on the ground five minutes, and my constant stream of Italy stories doesn't show any signs of letting up anytime soon.<br />
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Leaving Italy was extremely hard, as I'm sure you all could tell from the dramatic tone of my last few blog posts. In fact, I experienced what I call "the 24 hours of tears." Oh yes. I began crying during my last dinner with Stella, cried the entire walk to the bus stop, cried half the trip to Florence, cried myself to sleep, and cried for the first 30 minutes of my flight to my Paris layover. Then I think I ran out of tears for a while... that is, until I saw my family at the gate of IAH, and I started crying again. OH MY GOODNESS, who even knew a person could cry so many tears?!<br />
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But you know what? I had a perfect goodbye, in spite of the copious amounts of tears I shed. Francesco and Natascia gave me many hugs and told me that I had a true Italian family for the rest of my life, and then Natascia and Cosimo waved goodbye to me from the upstairs window, while Francesco stood in front of the tunnel and blew kisses until I was out of sight. Postcard, much? At the bus stop, Stella kept telling me, "<i>Non piangere perchè è finito; ridere perchè ha successo!</i>" (Rachel's translation of, "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened!") She and Rachel then blew kisses at me as I boarded the bus, blinded by tears. On the flight to Paris, I felt really terrible for the poor Italian man sitting next to me, because as much as I tried to be discreet, I was sobbing too hard to even pretend like I wasn't crying. I'm sure he thought my mother had died or something. On the flight to America, I wrote in my diary, "I know how cliche this sounds, but I literally feel as though I left a piece of my heart in Italy." Ok, that is super cheesy and overdramatic and cliche, but it did feel like that. Even now, at the 5 week mark, I still feel that part of me is across the ocean - I guess Italy just stole part of me forever.<br />
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I got nervous as my plane neared Houston, because I had expected to get more excited about going home by the time I got near the end of the flight, but alas, I was still stuck in Italia mode. This apathy about getting home lasted through customs (UGH America, your customs sucks so much!), but quickly melted away when I saw my family and realized how much I had missed them. Aww, family love.<br />
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Adjusting back to America has been less of a struggle than I thought it would - I definitely had a bit of reverse culture shock (Whoa, look at these enormous buildings and highways! Riding in a car that is not a taxi?! Crazy!), but it was much easier to for me to ease back into American culture than I thought it would be. I'm very happy to be able to eat queso and guacamole again, and I went to Target the second day I was home. The heat was a bit of a shock for me (Why is it 95 degrees outside?!), and I constantly marvel at the sheer amount of space we have in America as compared to Europe, but other than that, the actual culture shock hasn't been bad. I have become particularly adept at recognizing a shot of Italy in TV commercials or shows (one time an Olive Garden commercial showed a brief glimpse of Siena and I almost fell off the couch shouting about it), and I confess that I am an utter snob about Italian food - what if there is butter in there? Gross! - and Chianti and coffee now, so if you around me and I go on a long, pretentious spiel about any of the above, I apologize in advance.<br />
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Funnily enough, one of the things I miss the most is Italian itself. I miss hearing the rhythm and flow of Italian, and I miss being forced to speak and think in a language that is not my own. I've become utterly convinced that Italian is the best and prettiest language in the world, and will listen to no arguments to the contrary. I think my brain is really confused about the abrupt switch from being in Italian class 8 hours a week and speaking all Italian at home to speaking and thinking entirely in English, with only occasional dips into Italian Harry Potter or random musings in Italian. As a result, I've been dreaming in Italian fairly regularly; about once or twice a week. I'm not complaining - I've always thought it was really cool to dream in another language, and every single one of these dreams has taken place in Siena, and I'm always happy to see Siena, even in a dream.<br />
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So, in conclusion, America's not such a bad place to be. My family is here, my friends are here, and I really, really like guacamole. Most of the time I go along perfectly fine, content to think about Siena multiple times a day and talk about it whenever I possibly can. However, I do have occasional days where I am overwhelmed by homesickness for Siena (does it even count as homesickness if I only lived there for four months?) for a couple of hours, and that's a little difficult. Those are the times that I really miss my Italian family and the Italian culture in general. That is when all I want to do is walk down the steps to chat with Stella as she cooks dinner, or snuggle with Cosimo after dinner and watch Italian Thomas the Train with him, or eat a pesto sandwich in the Campo after Italian class.<br />
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But, as much as missing Italy sucks, I think it's a good sign. I think it shows that I really loved my time there, and that I dove in as much as possible. Or at least I hope it shows that. And if that means that I have to be really sad occasionally because I had such a wonderful experience, that's ok with me. I'm just happy that I did it.<br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-92107271732206339502012-05-12T04:00:00.000-07:002012-05-12T04:30:08.282-07:00Arrivederci, Italia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Well, this is it. My last blog post in Italy. My bus to Florence leaves in less than 6 hours, and I will be seeing my family in less than 36 hours. I am so incredibly grateful to have had this opportunity, and I will cherish my memories of it forever. </div>
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I leave you with a quote, and a picture of me contemplating my wonderful semester with a view. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SXTKmZ_jwiw/T65IAaf737I/AAAAAAAABWU/mqcSjtHGZZY/s1600/014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SXTKmZ_jwiw/T65IAaf737I/AAAAAAAABWU/mqcSjtHGZZY/s320/014.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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"Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-Earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil."<br />
-- J.R.R. Tolkien, <i>The Return of the King</i>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-86455424084291156092012-05-11T04:27:00.000-07:002012-05-11T04:27:02.428-07:00Feelings: I Have Lots of Them<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
On this, my penultimate day in Siena, I'm sitting here packing and trying not to cry every time I think about what I'm doing. I leave for Florence tomorrow evening, since my plane leaves at the unholy hour of 7:20 am on Sunday morning, meaning I need to spend the night in Florence. Thus, this is my last full day in Siena. Sadness abounds, with Rachel and I each occasionally shedding a few covert tears as we realize just how little time we have left. </div>
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However, I thought I would post a picture of what packing for home looks like, versus packing for Siena.<br />
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<i>Alas and alack!</i></div>
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Remember my very first post, when I was freaking out over how I was going to fit everything in my suitcase? Yeah... it's the same this time, except now I know exactly what needs to go in the suitcase. I just need to figure out how to make it fit, seeing as, whoops, I bought some stuff while I was here.<br />
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It's interesting to compare how I felt packing 4 months ago to how I feel packing now. 4 months ago, I had no idea what Italy would be like - I hoped very much that I would love it, but I was scared and stressed, as well as excited beyond anything I'd ever felt. I couldn't believe that I was going to live in Italy for 4 whole months.<br />
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Now, on the other side, as I pack for America, I feel some of those same emotions, but I also feel some very different ones. I have, in fact, loved Italy, and so I am incredibly sad to be leaving it. I've fallen in love with Italy and with the Italian people, and I can't believe that I'm most likely never going to see any of the people I've met here again. I don't want that at all! So, I'm telling myself that it's not an option for me not to come back to Italy - I *have* to come back. I'd be too heartbroken if I didn't tell myself that.<br />
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But it's not all bad feelings; I'm also very happy to go home and see my family. I miss them, and it's been weird not to be able to talk to them as much as I do when I'm at school. Plus I miss Trinity horribly - it's been harder than I thought it would be to see my friends have their lives at Trinity (facebook: the creeper's helper since 2004), while I've been away. Granted, I've been in Italy so I can't really complain, but I do still miss my friends greatly, and I cannot wait to see them again!<br />
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Finally, I am once again feeling some of those same scared emotions that I felt coming over here, this time because I've been in a completely different environment, doing completely different things since January, and I'm sure I've changed a lot during this semester. But I live with myself, so I can't actually tell how much I've changed - I have to wait until I go home until I discover how I've changed. As a result, I'm a little worried about reverse culture shock. I was expecting Italy to be very different than America, so my culture shock upon coming to Italy was very minimal. However, I am now returning home, to a place that should be familiar and comforting, but my perception of the world has changed, and I am both worried and excited to see what that will be like.<br />
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And now, it is a beautiful, perfect, gorgeous day here in Siena, and I plan to go outside and spend some quality time on the Campo, soaking up that Tuscan sun - packing be damned!</div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-23477105124869041922012-05-06T12:37:00.000-07:002012-05-06T12:37:45.484-07:00Where Has The Time Gone?Ciao ragazzi! Ti sono mancato? It turns out that the last few weeks have been a little busy for me, what with going to Sicily and Amsterdam and just generally having fun, and now I have finals. WHAT. When did that happen? How can I be having finals? Where did the past four months go? Is it really May? Do I really leave in a week?<br />
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Hold the phone, y'all. I leave in a week. In fact, in one week at this very moment, my plane will be landing in Houston. I have many conflicting feelings about this. On the one hand, I am ecstatic to see my family again - 4 months is the longest I've gone without seeing them! I also miss America - Target, chocolate chip cookies, Tex Mex, English... all of these things (and let's not forget Trinity! I had no idea I would miss my beloved university this much). However, on the other hand, ASDLFASF PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME LEAVE ITALY! I DON'T WANT TO! Beside the gorgeous, peculiarly Tuscan sunlight, the fields of lushly green, rolling countryside streaked with yellow and dotted with red, the crooked stone paved streets, and the architecture so medieval it's almost unbelievable, I will miss the Italian people - particularly my Italian family. </div>
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<i>My family! (L-R bottom: me, Natascia, Cosimo, Marta, Francesco. Top: Rachel, Stella)</i></div>
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In fact, I would go so far as to say that my Italian family has been my favourite part of my experience in Siena. I adore the way that they have taken me into their lives, putting up with me as I struggled my way into knowing a semblance of Italian, letting me love on their darling baby, Cosimo, and just generally making me feel loved. Italians have a unique ability to make one feel part of their joyously raucous family life, and I'm incredibly grateful that I was able to experience this. I hope that our relationship lasts after I leave Siena - I know that I at least will be sending Stella all the tacky souvenirs I can find in Texas, to add to her collection of tacky souvenirs from all over the world.<br />
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<i>Picnicking with the best homestay mother I could have asked for</i></div>
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Here's to one week left in Italy! Let's hope I can soak up as much Siena as possible in these final 7 days.</div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-44530807878871025522012-04-18T13:58:00.010-07:002012-04-18T14:33:40.343-07:00Learning to Cook, Tuscan Style<span><span style="font-size: 100%;" >GUYS TOMORROW I GO TO SICILY FOR THE WEEKEND<span>! I am ridiculously excited about this. The food! The sea! Mt. Etna! The Mafia!</span></span></span><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; ">However, Sicily is not the only cool thing happening to me this week - my program took us on a cooking lesson at a local restaurant on Monday, where we learned how to make lots of delicious Italian food!</div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q7JlYpKNjas/T48r-PQTaOI/AAAAAAAABUU/erqi7KQL2q8/s1600/IMG_5797.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q7JlYpKNjas/T48r-PQTaOI/AAAAAAAABUU/erqi7KQL2q8/s320/IMG_5797.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732849198912727266" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>The group, in our stylish aprons</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: left; ">Our chef, Pino, started out by teaching to make the dessert, a biscotti type of deal called cantucci, made with lots of almonds and honey and other delicious things. We got to mix it by hand, and had great fun squishing the eggs, like the 5 year olds we are.</div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jQSaS-x9Kzk/T48suhpY4yI/AAAAAAAABUg/k29ZFK6d6jM/s1600/IMG_5804.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jQSaS-x9Kzk/T48suhpY4yI/AAAAAAAABUg/k29ZFK6d6jM/s320/IMG_5804.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732850028483502882" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>hand mixing!</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: center; "><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U-cT2ksohTw/T48uWt0yIII/AAAAAAAABUs/JrKMHtDO7OY/s1600/IMG_5820.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U-cT2ksohTw/T48uWt0yIII/AAAAAAAABUs/JrKMHtDO7OY/s320/IMG_5820.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732851818458914946" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span><i>Wonderful cantucci, all baked</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; font-style: normal; "><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Then it was time for pasta making! We once again reveled in hand mixing (aka squishing eggs), and then ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the pasta making machine - you put a bunch of dough in at one end, turn a crank, and lovely long strips of pasta come out that you can then cut and shape into your desired form of pasta. </span></div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QDbFnsl9qOQ/T48vBh25FFI/AAAAAAAABU4/CIEVQxS9jTM/s1600/IMG_5815.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QDbFnsl9qOQ/T48vBh25FFI/AAAAAAAABU4/CIEVQxS9jTM/s320/IMG_5815.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732852553980908626" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Squishin'</i></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_d7a60V7ivA/T48vTdCcUTI/AAAAAAAABVE/aVlYxWU6WpY/s1600/IMG_5822.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_d7a60V7ivA/T48vTdCcUTI/AAAAAAAABVE/aVlYxWU6WpY/s320/IMG_5822.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732852861924823346" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>pasta strip!</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span >First we made gnocchi (YUM, favorite), which did not require the pasta maker, obviously, as it is just little pillow blobs of potato dough. Then we made tortellini and ravioli and something called caramelle, which looked like little pieces of candy, all of which were stuffed with ricotta and either spinach or eggplant.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4ES1CWY_yaI/T48wi-hbejI/AAAAAAAABVQ/vAWfCzCkpLw/s1600/IMG_5824.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4ES1CWY_yaI/T48wi-hbejI/AAAAAAAABVQ/vAWfCzCkpLw/s320/IMG_5824.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732854228122827314" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><i>forming the pasta</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><span >We watched Pino cook some of the pasta and learned that when pasta is freshly made, you just wait for it to bob to the surface for it to be cooked - it takes all of 2 minutes. Delicious. When the pasta was done, he cooked up some to-die-for pumpkin cream sauce and plated up a plate for us.</span> </span></div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8Y0AyCah_n8/T48w4pwkzeI/AAAAAAAABVc/zmhQigjpZ98/s1600/IMG_5834.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8Y0AyCah_n8/T48w4pwkzeI/AAAAAAAABVc/zmhQigjpZ98/s320/IMG_5834.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732854600506330594" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span ><i>Crazy deliciousness, with Pino!</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span >Did I mention that this entire lesson was in Italian? I was proud of myself for understanding so much. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span >After the lesson, we retired to the dining room, where we ate a mind-blowing amount of food. We had 7 different types of pasta. That's right. Seven. I had the biggest food baby in existence. But it was so worth it. How often do you get to have a cooking lesson in Tuscany? You guys. My life. </span></div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-28743728705874909692012-04-17T07:24:00.022-07:002012-04-17T08:40:22.031-07:00My Roman Holiday (aka the longest blog post ever)<div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Now that I've successfully turned in my monster-sized paper for Cinema, I can finally put up Rome pictures/stories! They're only a month late, don't worry about it. :P</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Story number 1 for Rome, and probably the most hectic story that I have from SB12, is the story of that time Kyle and I almost missed our flight from Paris to Rome. Our flight left from the Beauvais airport at 9:30, and Beauvais is 1 1/2 hours away from Paris proper by bus, so Kyle and I were supposed to take the bus at 6:30. This meant that we needed to meet at the subway by 5:30, since we only had an elementary knowledge of the metro system, and we wanted ample time for mistakes. That is hella early. I went out the night before, because I'm dumb, so I got an hour of sleep, and got myself to the metro about 15 mins late.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">However, there was no Kyle to be found! I waited for her for about 15 mins, in a groggy stupor, looking at all the business people taking the metro that early in the morning, wondering what kind of horrible job you have to have that requires getting up that early. I finally snapped out of it and realized that our bus left in half an hour, so I needed to find out what was up with Kyle. Of course, my phone decided to break as soon as I got to France, so I had no phone. This meant that I had to go back to Sarah's apartment and call Kyle using Sarah's phone. By the time I woke Sarah up enough to let me in and called Kyle, it was 6:30. My phone call woke her up -she had set her phone for PM instead of AM.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">We had obviously missed the bus we were supposed to take, but I found another bus at 7:30,and we decided to go for that one. We tried quite valiantly, but alas, we ran from the metro up to the bus stop in time to see our bus drive away. ASLDJFDS. At this point, I refused to miss our flight, even though we were a mere 2 hours away from lift-off, and still 90 mins from the airport. Kyle found a taxi and we hopped in, and told the man that our flight left at 9:30. He sped us to the airport and figured out which terminal we needed to go to, which was very nice of him, except that he then charged us 145 euro. Yes. 145 euro for a cab ride. It was ridiculous.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">We arrived at the airport at 9, when the plane started boarding. When we ran up to the checking desk to get our boarding tickets stamped, there was no line for the Rome flight - it was all shut down, because we were supposed to be, you know, boarding the plane. The nice man at the deskgot all concerned about us and took us to the front of the security line, so that we whizzed through and successfully made it to the plane at about 9:20. Exhausted, we collapsed on the first seats we saw and slept our way to Rome.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">This beginning did not augur well for the rest of our stay in Rome, but thankfully the rest of our stay was wonderfully tranquil, and I got to dork out over the ruins and the Vatican! :)</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fDZGRFMSsOU/T42BgIsO9UI/AAAAAAAABQk/FsIQeU30rpI/s1600/IMG_5247.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fDZGRFMSsOU/T42BgIsO9UI/AAAAAAAABQk/FsIQeU30rpI/s320/IMG_5247.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732380289801319746" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Rome's cityscape</i></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a7LeeL9VqYI/T42BpM26xMI/AAAAAAAABQw/lt88LfrvRwE/s1600/IMG_5257.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a7LeeL9VqYI/T42BpM26xMI/AAAAAAAABQw/lt88LfrvRwE/s320/IMG_5257.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732380445538698434" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: center; "><i>View from a park we found</i></div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-klj_Dp43UAk/T42CrtU_3BI/AAAAAAAABQ8/-Ad7wdLpu-g/s1600/IMG_5262.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-klj_Dp43UAk/T42CrtU_3BI/AAAAAAAABQ8/-Ad7wdLpu-g/s320/IMG_5262.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732381588126161938" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Trevi Fountain! We saw it at night and threw coins, like good tourists.</i></div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5M5yyeDxz7Y/T42DV_L2bwI/AAAAAAAABRI/MO8PcNyYMlQ/s1600/IMG_5285.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5M5yyeDxz7Y/T42DV_L2bwI/AAAAAAAABRI/MO8PcNyYMlQ/s320/IMG_5285.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732382314474139394" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Spanish Steps</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: center; "><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qMYQx0kA9Qc/T42GnoMhcZI/AAAAAAAABRU/r58qcC02AMU/s1600/IMG_5304.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qMYQx0kA9Qc/T42GnoMhcZI/AAAAAAAABRU/r58qcC02AMU/s320/IMG_5304.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732385916075471250" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Roman ruins - I think this is Titus' arch?</i></div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hm22uSrTehg/T42GzxfZh_I/AAAAAAAABRg/hyDd4p8AJgk/s1600/IMG_5335.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Hm22uSrTehg/T42GzxfZh_I/AAAAAAAABRg/hyDd4p8AJgk/s320/IMG_5335.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732386124728993778" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>ohmygoodnesss it's the Colosseum</i></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GDAnpdu_KA0/T42G9g7ooLI/AAAAAAAABRs/xmjNa4hu-3c/s1600/IMG_5348.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GDAnpdu_KA0/T42G9g7ooLI/AAAAAAAABRs/xmjNa4hu-3c/s320/IMG_5348.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732386292082712754" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Chillin'</i></div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MDwA5_cIg_c/T42HeD_IGZI/AAAAAAAABR4/XDFF212HhEU/s1600/IMG_5361.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MDwA5_cIg_c/T42HeD_IGZI/AAAAAAAABR4/XDFF212HhEU/s320/IMG_5361.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732386851248413074" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>More ruins!</i></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gOH_Yc_Ns0k/T42Hx8h77CI/AAAAAAAABSE/mSZJjzmO1BA/s1600/IMG_5390.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gOH_Yc_Ns0k/T42Hx8h77CI/AAAAAAAABSE/mSZJjzmO1BA/s320/IMG_5390.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732387192844315682" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Roman Forum</i></div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n03SIiB9ub8/T42Ic81mqmI/AAAAAAAABSQ/dpCH-MvBiQ8/s1600/IMG_5401.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n03SIiB9ub8/T42Ic81mqmI/AAAAAAAABSQ/dpCH-MvBiQ8/s320/IMG_5401.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732387931661183586" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; ">A street performer in Piazza Navona</div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4rlt3dGBqiA/T42JC08JNvI/AAAAAAAABSo/QCLgiq3s_yg/s1600/IMG_5396.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4rlt3dGBqiA/T42JC08JNvI/AAAAAAAABSo/QCLgiq3s_yg/s320/IMG_5396.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732388582376158962" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Monument to Vittorio Emanuele II</i></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bZqUKS9WC28/T42JVZZp0PI/AAAAAAAABS0/zEE6-oMnBB4/s1600/IMG_5415.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bZqUKS9WC28/T42JVZZp0PI/AAAAAAAABS0/zEE6-oMnBB4/s320/IMG_5415.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732388901401252082" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>PANTHEON</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fOujQJhqiFQ/T42KMPADz6I/AAAAAAAABTA/Hn9cFalwcxA/s1600/IMG_5466.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fOujQJhqiFQ/T42KMPADz6I/AAAAAAAABTA/Hn9cFalwcxA/s320/IMG_5466.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732389843502354338" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Raphael's "School Of Athens"</i></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z3fHmmnDncM/T42K39WTinI/AAAAAAAABTM/IhtKMP1ZvWM/s1600/IMG_5484.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z3fHmmnDncM/T42K39WTinI/AAAAAAAABTM/IhtKMP1ZvWM/s320/IMG_5484.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732390594678065778" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Outside St. Peter's Basilica! :)</i></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QoiSWA_4How/T42LYxGLMQI/AAAAAAAABTY/mLvf5bBUZ88/s1600/IMG_5498.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QoiSWA_4How/T42LYxGLMQI/AAAAAAAABTY/mLvf5bBUZ88/s320/IMG_5498.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732391158324867330" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Pieta, what alsdfkjlsadkjfadklfjs </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dDYtCsKw7WQ/T42LxP3l0DI/AAAAAAAABTk/pG7UJWFzIVk/s1600/IMG_5506.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 248px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dDYtCsKw7WQ/T42LxP3l0DI/AAAAAAAABTk/pG7UJWFzIVk/s320/IMG_5506.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732391578902057010" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Inside St. Peter's - the rays of light were *perfect*</i></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iW11g003Bw4/T42MKcDVVRI/AAAAAAAABTw/xvRR-BnBW4s/s1600/IMG_5513.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iW11g003Bw4/T42MKcDVVRI/AAAAAAAABTw/xvRR-BnBW4s/s320/IMG_5513.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732392011669263634" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Bernini's Chair of St. Peter</i></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KHSknDYMZY8/T42Mh2f31vI/AAAAAAAABT8/60Xh_kwbN8U/s1600/IMG_5518.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KHSknDYMZY8/T42Mh2f31vI/AAAAAAAABT8/60Xh_kwbN8U/s320/IMG_5518.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732392413905278706" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Tiber! So much Roman murder happened here! ...The classics can be gory.</i></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a23S_1XCU1c/T42NMD13faI/AAAAAAAABUI/C7VV31f-iSo/s1600/IMG_5543.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a23S_1XCU1c/T42NMD13faI/AAAAAAAABUI/C7VV31f-iSo/s320/IMG_5543.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732393139041697186" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I could not go to the Borghese to see most of Bernini's works, but at least I saw St. Theresa :)</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I know that I just put everyone's brain in picture overload, and I apologize for that. There was just so much to see in Rome! As an art lover and a classicist, I almost died of happiness in Rome. It was pure bliss.</div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-20482354900739366902012-04-15T06:28:00.002-07:002012-04-15T06:35:24.543-07:00Procrastination<a href="http://s3-ec.buzzfed.com/static/enhanced/web05/2012/3/15/17/enhanced-buzz-22086-1331845930-8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 625px; height: 469px;" src="http://s3-ec.buzzfed.com/static/enhanced/web05/2012/3/15/17/enhanced-buzz-22086-1331845930-8.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>I would love to post Rome pictures, but as you can see, this lion is extremely disappointed in me for even thinking about further procrastinating on the mountains of homework that are waiting for me, so Rome will just have to wait for another day or two, my chickens!<br /><div><br /></div><div>I leave for Sicily on Thursday (SO EXCITED), so never fear, I will have Rome pictures up before then.</div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-36364648677108340042012-04-12T11:39:00.005-07:002012-04-12T11:52:09.354-07:00Cosimo, Il Mio Amore<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qYj9A7uCtpM/T4ciuSvuQhI/AAAAAAAABPI/bZivVmtjncA/s1600/IMG_4418.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qYj9A7uCtpM/T4ciuSvuQhI/AAAAAAAABPI/bZivVmtjncA/s320/IMG_4418.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730587229553574418" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><u><br /></u></span></div><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Does everyone see the cuteness that is this child? This is Cosimo, Stella's 20 month old grandson, and he is possibly the most adorable child in existence. Stella watches him almost every day, so Rachel and I get to play with him all the time, much to our happiness. </span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">He calls us "chiche" (kee-kay), since the last girl that stayed here was named Christina, and he called her Chica. Now he thinks that all the girls that stay in our room are chiche (plural of chica). </span></span></div><div><span><br /></span><span></span><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NXu9J4nsg9k/T4ch5DQneaI/AAAAAAAABO8/gvtcIKf0n18/s1600/IMG_4245.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NXu9J4nsg9k/T4ch5DQneaI/AAAAAAAABO8/gvtcIKf0n18/s320/IMG_4245.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730586314863507874" /></a>Cosimo is quite the boisterous little fellow, and has his own dialect of Italian - Stella calls it Cosimese. For example, "cavallo" (horse) is calacalaca, while "biberon" (bottle) is bimbombom. Moreover, he's very imperious, and orders me around like no one's business. He will come up to me and shout, "Mano!" while holding out his hand, then lead me to the couch, pat it, and say, "Siede." Then we read a book (he's got My First 1000 Words book which has been quite handy for helping me learn my Italian animals, etc.), or cuddle and watch TV. It's the cutest. I think I will take him home with me, ok? </div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><u><br /></u></span></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-neGxIJb5E_k/T4chqAI5rnI/AAAAAAAABOw/GmRxo8buhe4/s1600/IMG_4422.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 253px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-neGxIJb5E_k/T4chqAI5rnI/AAAAAAAABOw/GmRxo8buhe4/s320/IMG_4422.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730586056327802482" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Because seriously, who could resist that?</div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-5557365882381446872012-04-10T04:57:00.024-07:002012-04-10T05:59:27.407-07:00Finally, a Paris Post<span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Are y'all ready for this jelly? Probably not. Welcome to a post where I throw a ton of Paris pictures at you and also tell you the most memorable stories from my 2ish days in Paris.</span></span><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3tOAtkDYTSg/T4Qgq-u7O3I/AAAAAAAABK0/5lQue4ynw2Q/s1600/IMG_4970.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3tOAtkDYTSg/T4Qgq-u7O3I/AAAAAAAABK0/5lQue4ynw2Q/s320/IMG_4970.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729740548688526194" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; ">First up, the pastries at McCaffe are surprisingly delicious. And cheap! Kyle and I went there for our first breakfast in Paris (duh), and in the midst of our happiness over <i>pain au chocolat</i>, we realized that we were sitting next to a man that I had originally taken as your typical studious Frenchman, but soon revealed himself to be a straight up crazy person. He started talking to himself, and at first we gave him the benefit of the doubt; you know, maybe he was talking on a bluetooth, maybe he was practicing a monologue. NOPE, he was having a long, very intense conversation with himself, in German. Moreover, he soon started laughing to himself. You guys. I am <i>incapable</i> of not laughing when something funny happens, so I started cracking up less than subtly. In fact, I was laughing so hard I cried. When Kyle and I stood up to leave, this man turns and gives us the creepiest leer I have ever seen... he should audition for a horror movie or something. It was an experience.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; ">Moving on, we went to Versailles! Except, oh wait, we went on Monday and the Chateau is CLOSED on Mondays! :( But the gardens were open, and really, the gardens take a full day in and of themselves.</div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ar-tCBLmFNo/T4Qg1fCalnI/AAAAAAAABLA/G9x1rsj6SUA/s1600/IMG_4991.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ar-tCBLmFNo/T4Qg1fCalnI/AAAAAAAABLA/G9x1rsj6SUA/s320/IMG_4991.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729740729158899314" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Cheesing at the gardens</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left; "><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-efmYZkl13Fw/T4QiPmXsFOI/AAAAAAAABLM/alTmTHZEk5E/s1600/IMG_4983.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; font-weight: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-efmYZkl13Fw/T4QiPmXsFOI/AAAAAAAABLM/alTmTHZEk5E/s320/IMG_4983.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729742277315400930" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Are you <b>sure</b> we can't come in?</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; "><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fFsmPAn5bKA/T4QkI97t4_I/AAAAAAAABLY/kzBTc5i_jzM/s1600/IMG_4995.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 284px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fFsmPAn5bKA/T4QkI97t4_I/AAAAAAAABLY/kzBTc5i_jzM/s320/IMG_4995.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729744362404701170" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Pretty canals!</i></div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7QaEyEy060A/T4QkcMFObiI/AAAAAAAABLk/z_F-b8jnOmE/s1600/IMG_5007.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7QaEyEy060A/T4QkcMFObiI/AAAAAAAABLk/z_F-b8jnOmE/s320/IMG_5007.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729744692620193314" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span><i>Too pretty for words.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>Then it was Louvre time! We had been planning to go on Tuesday, not Monday, but since Versailles was closed we headed over on Monday. Once we got to the Louvre, we learned that it is closed on Tuesdays, so how handy that we just happened to go on a Monday! Paris pro tip: Versailles is closed on Mondays, the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wCiP1O-Ku68/T4Qkp_VxWyI/AAAAAAAABLw/X-gCOk9MDjo/s1600/IMG_5016.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wCiP1O-Ku68/T4Qkp_VxWyI/AAAAAAAABLw/X-gCOk9MDjo/s320/IMG_5016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729744929718098722" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><i>The Louvre, being the Louvre.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; ">Can I just say that the Louvre is ridiculously enormous? Kyle and I spent a whole afternoon going through one third of the museum. One third. In 3 hours. What. Moreover, by the end we were so exhausted from art overload that we were just wandering mindlessly down hallways, glancing right and left at priceless pieces of art, too overwhelmed to take anymore in. I think the Louvre needs about 3 separate days.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>After the Louvre...</span></div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A_0snNpL3WE/T4QmpyJGtyI/AAAAAAAABL8/TeH-rWZ1RBs/s1600/IMG_5022.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A_0snNpL3WE/T4QmpyJGtyI/AAAAAAAABL8/TeH-rWZ1RBs/s320/IMG_5022.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729747125198567202" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sparkly Tour Eiffel!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6dBK78LCN60/T4QnU3baTrI/AAAAAAAABMI/VvYkiOGCI7M/s1600/IMG_5039.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6dBK78LCN60/T4QnU3baTrI/AAAAAAAABMI/VvYkiOGCI7M/s320/IMG_5039.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729747865351900850" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Arc de Triomphe! (I was too tired to get a decent picture.. whoops.)</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The next day, Kyle and I headed back to Versailles for real.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7jJ1n5bGj8c/T4Qp_qw3yLI/AAAAAAAABNE/qhmj8ov-XRw/s1600/IMG_5141.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7jJ1n5bGj8c/T4Qp_qw3yLI/AAAAAAAABNE/qhmj8ov-XRw/s320/IMG_5141.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729750799709882546" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Gold everywhere!</i></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AVajRUw2OTE/T4QpClhWt6I/AAAAAAAABMs/TcvMRhRQjuA/s1600/IMG_5099.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AVajRUw2OTE/T4QpClhWt6I/AAAAAAAABMs/TcvMRhRQjuA/s320/IMG_5099.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729749750330603426" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Hall of mirrors!</i></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lG840847oSg/T4QqhS2FSOI/AAAAAAAABNQ/yPjNQo21SIg/s1600/IMG_5172.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lG840847oSg/T4QqhS2FSOI/AAAAAAAABNQ/yPjNQo21SIg/s320/IMG_5172.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729751377404840162" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The Tuileries!</i></div><div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GAJOHmQjGrE/T4QqyRma0II/AAAAAAAABNc/4TIvmFSzqno/s1600/IMG_5168.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GAJOHmQjGrE/T4QqyRma0II/AAAAAAAABNc/4TIvmFSzqno/s320/IMG_5168.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729751669128482946" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Oh France</i></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9g1kym68YXs/T4Qrz_ttC0I/AAAAAAAABN0/eObP0vzvMsI/s1600/IMG_5173.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9g1kym68YXs/T4Qrz_ttC0I/AAAAAAAABN0/eObP0vzvMsI/s320/IMG_5173.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729752798198565698" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>It's highly possible that I fell in love with the Seine</i></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gJGtkd7Y7V8/T4QsVUcr4AI/AAAAAAAABOA/ItJGEHwJMPc/s1600/IMG_5183.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gJGtkd7Y7V8/T4QsVUcr4AI/AAAAAAAABOA/ItJGEHwJMPc/s320/IMG_5183.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729753370700013570" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Booksellers along the Seine. I barely restrained myself from buying everything.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5eP7ubkqxtY/T4Qsibpht1I/AAAAAAAABOM/zOvoeV2yxnQ/s1600/IMG_5198.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5eP7ubkqxtY/T4Qsibpht1I/AAAAAAAABOM/zOvoeV2yxnQ/s320/IMG_5198.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729753595971221330" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The lock bridge - lovers come to lock a lock onto the bridge, then throw the key into the river.</i></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--aNhvgisQkY/T4Qs3aqftYI/AAAAAAAABOY/cvaSjp67g4g/s1600/IMG_5207.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--aNhvgisQkY/T4Qs3aqftYI/AAAAAAAABOY/cvaSjp67g4g/s320/IMG_5207.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729753956484101506" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Notre Dame</i></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2WZPChIDZsg/T4QtUQJX1vI/AAAAAAAABOk/jJ8jDZcwwqA/s1600/IMG_5219.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2WZPChIDZsg/T4QtUQJX1vI/AAAAAAAABOk/jJ8jDZcwwqA/s320/IMG_5219.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729754451877025522" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Truly awe-inspiring</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And that, my lovelies, was Paris in 2 days. My feet cried out for mercy, but I fell absolutely in love with the city. </div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-91354900852703847572012-04-03T11:14:00.006-07:002012-04-08T04:27:55.903-07:00An Italian Easter<span ><span style="font-size: 100%;">Buona Pasqua, everyone! Seeing as I'm in Italy for Easter this year, I got myself out of bed this morning and went to Easter Mass in the Duomo with Kyle and Alli (because guess what, Alli is here this weekend, eeeee!). Obviously I only understood about half of what was said, seeing as it was in Italian, but I really enjoyed it! I've never really been to mass before, so I found it all quite interesting.</span></span><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X0zRTNfV6XQ/T4F0ajaJbkI/AAAAAAAABKc/1Yem5BfwHaI/s1600/555898_2920139204044_1277727144_32281245_1965443474_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X0zRTNfV6XQ/T4F0ajaJbkI/AAAAAAAABKc/1Yem5BfwHaI/s320/555898_2920139204044_1277727144_32281245_1965443474_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728988200522313282" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><i>Sorry for stealing your pictures, Kyle!</i></div><div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SezCDfXnCOI/T4F0eF2I3RI/AAAAAAAABKo/zW5HpK1l4c8/s1600/555692_2920138724032_1277727144_32281243_1862086786_n.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 238px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SezCDfXnCOI/T4F0eF2I3RI/AAAAAAAABKo/zW5HpK1l4c8/s320/555692_2920138724032_1277727144_32281243_1862086786_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728988261306129682" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Proof we were there! </i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: left; ">Unfortunately, it's a cold, rainy day (what happened to that gorgeous weather we've been having, Siena?!), so we can't really venture outside today, but we do have plans to make french toast for Easter brunch! Hooray!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: left; ">I know I've been a terrible blogger recently, but I keep getting intimidated by the idea of posting about Paris and Rome... so many stories, and so many pictures! This week I will actually attempt to post some pictures from Paris and Rome, because we saw some fantastical stuff while we were there. Until then, may everyone have a wonderful Easter!</div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-53328605413048258042012-03-27T12:00:00.000-07:002012-03-26T14:46:12.543-07:00Pisa, Where It's OK To Act Like A Weirdo<span><span style="font-size: 100%;">During the epic journey that was SB '12, we stopped in Pisa for a day, as our bus left us in Pisa at 9 am, but our flight to Paris from Pisa did not leave until 4. Thus, after changing and freshening up at the bar where we ate breakfast (I'm fairly certain that the owner hated us by the time we left... sorry I'm currently homeless right now, overpriced bar guy!), we headed to the town's main attraction, the tower.</span></span><div><br /><span><span style="font-size: 100%;"></span></span><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AXwxTEBHSHo/T3Dh2z47fcI/AAAAAAAABJ4/b7FHHcirB8k/s1600/IMG_4934.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AXwxTEBHSHo/T3Dh2z47fcI/AAAAAAAABJ4/b7FHHcirB8k/s320/IMG_4934.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724323458146074050" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span><i>Ciao, tower!</i></span></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">It turns out there's a reason that Pisa is only known for it's tower - there's pretty much nothing else to do there. However, just sitting in front of the tower is quite fun, especially since it was an absolutely wonderful day! It's extremely amusing to watch all the tourists take pictures in front of the tower, and of course we did a </span>photo-shoot<span style="font-size: 100%;"> of our own. </span></span></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CIgJuW9xxoc/T3DiLG9nTUI/AAAAAAAABKE/gyGElqkIQIY/s1600/IMG_4937.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CIgJuW9xxoc/T3DiLG9nTUI/AAAAAAAABKE/gyGElqkIQIY/s320/IMG_4937.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724323806863379778" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Everyone, pose!</i></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iWOO2OPh5yU/T3DiapUVnpI/AAAAAAAABKQ/NwUaaMDm8aU/s1600/IMG_4951.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iWOO2OPh5yU/T3DiapUVnpI/AAAAAAAABKQ/NwUaaMDm8aU/s320/IMG_4951.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724324073783533202" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Couldn't resist.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I don't know if you can tell in these photos, but the tower really does lean quite a lot, and in fact, it looks pretty goofy. There was one point during the day that I just started laughing at it: "What are you doing, tower? Why are you so silly? Stand up straight! You look ridiculous!"</div></div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-70345664916525712662012-03-26T12:54:00.017-07:002012-03-26T14:29:45.625-07:00Naples, Or That Time I Was A Vagrant<i style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">Mamma mia</i><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; ">, I'm a terrible blogger! I would say I've been too busy over the weekend, but let's be real here - I was "busy" sleeping until 1 om and watching almost a full season of Mad Men. So, really, I'm just </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; ">molto pigra</i><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">. However, I am now attempting to actually be productive, so, ready, set, go, Naples story time!</span></span><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Kyle, Sarah, and I kicked off our trip by taking the midnight bus to Napoli. The less said about this bus ride, the better, but let it be known that if a sleep-deprived college student is unable sleep somewhere, that place is a very special place indeed. Anyways, the bus dropped us off at Napoli's train station at the unseemly hour of 5:45. Blah. We looked for a bathroom, but guess what? The bathrooms at that train station don't open until 8 am, and then you have to pay a euro to use them! Hooray! I love bathrooms that cost money and that also close during the night! OH WAIT. I don't love them at all! Being thus bathroom deprived, we plopped our cold, sleepy selves down in a semi-warm cafe, and proceeded to sleep... until were woken up by a policeman standing over us and repeating, "Non dorme! Non dorme!" (Don't sleep!) Basically, we were told we couldn't be vagrants. Whoops!</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%; "><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LXgTyo7bLcg/T3DPSVNDc9I/AAAAAAAABHQ/shB2Qg5shDs/s1600/531069_2852152224412_1277727144_32249706_272915551_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LXgTyo7bLcg/T3DPSVNDc9I/AAAAAAAABHQ/shB2Qg5shDs/s320/531069_2852152224412_1277727144_32249706_272915551_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724303040224392146" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Sarah and I: vagrants</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Once Napoli finally woke up for the day (and the bathrooms opened), we wandered through a few Napolitan streets before deciding that what we really wanted was the beach, and so we grabbed a train to Sorrento, a town on the coast of the Bay of Naples. I am not exaggerating when I say that Sorrento is one of the most beautiful places I have ever been - I would go back in a heartbeat if I ever had the chance. The combination of the bluest blue ocean, craggy cliffs, pastel buildings, and a thick covering of citrus trees makes for a truly wonderful sight. </span></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g1LpIXA5RCI/T3DQtIDzdmI/AAAAAAAABHc/3YAn0_BsWSY/s1600/IMG_4728.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g1LpIXA5RCI/T3DQtIDzdmI/AAAAAAAABHc/3YAn0_BsWSY/s320/IMG_4728.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724304600064030306" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Stop it, Sorrento. You'll make the other towns jealous.</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; "><i><br /></i></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jv7922Ffi04/T3DQ5ts0_hI/AAAAAAAABHo/C48rFgRkALU/s1600/IMG_4745.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Jv7922Ffi04/T3DQ5ts0_hI/AAAAAAAABHo/C48rFgRkALU/s320/IMG_4745.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724304816326639122" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Vesuvio, chilling.</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; ">After our sleepless night, we very much wanted to relax, so we acquired limoncello and found a beach. It's possible that this beach was not meant for tourists, and was instead a beach for actual fishermen. OH WELL<span style="font-size: 100%; ">.</span></div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2nJ0_WLY7Qs/T3DSUgmfwoI/AAAAAAAABIA/8ONTNT7xTAM/s1600/IMG_4754.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2nJ0_WLY7Qs/T3DSUgmfwoI/AAAAAAAABIA/8ONTNT7xTAM/s320/IMG_4754.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724306376178516610" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Kyle and Sarah testing the water (freddo!)</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CvREIFDWWJk/T3DSzjXxDUI/AAAAAAAABIM/YyNdxUwEXrs/s1600/IMG_4768.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CvREIFDWWJk/T3DSzjXxDUI/AAAAAAAABIM/YyNdxUwEXrs/s320/IMG_4768.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724306909497986370" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; ">After beaching it up, we headed for our hostel, which was in yet another town, about a 30 minute bus ride from Sorrento. Once we arrived at the hostel we realized that we were literally the only ones there. Awkward! Moreover, we were the only tourists in town, and small towns like this one completely shut down in the tourist off-season, meaning that there were more cats than people. However, we did get our own tiny little house! And for cheaps!</span></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qhVTJpYc4b8/T3DUwicRhlI/AAAAAAAABIY/_4ppoohI8A0/s1600/IMG_4779.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qhVTJpYc4b8/T3DUwicRhlI/AAAAAAAABIY/_4ppoohI8A0/s320/IMG_4779.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724309056732104274" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Kyle says ciao from our casa!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QLsp4PQecAQ/T3DXfAGNp5I/AAAAAAAABIk/vvZ-Rtxa3zY/s1600/IMG_4785.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QLsp4PQecAQ/T3DXfAGNp5I/AAAAAAAABIk/vvZ-Rtxa3zY/s320/IMG_4785.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724312053989877650" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Ghost town</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">After sleeping the sleep of the dead, we got up and traveled to POMPEII! I was slightly excited about Pompeii. And by slightly excited I mean I was freaking the freak out. </div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1Edd6wJA0gs/T3DaYHJklWI/AAAAAAAABIw/Z_28NpPr6xo/s1600/IMG_4812.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1Edd6wJA0gs/T3DaYHJklWI/AAAAAAAABIw/Z_28NpPr6xo/s320/IMG_4812.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724315234158810466" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>See? Freaking out.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I wandered through the streets of Pompeii in a haze of dorky bliss, marveling at the history. I was surprised by how little everything is guarded - on several occasions we felt like we couldn't see something close enough, so we hopped some fences to get closer. I know. Bad. But we wanted to get the best view of everything possible! You're only in Pompeii once, and there was literally no one making sure that people weren't getting into places they weren't supposed to be. Our motto while there: "I don't care! I'm in Pompeii!"</div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xvvo0EL-hO4/T3DbmCVBmlI/AAAAAAAABI8/D24RqYfRCEM/s1600/IMG_4813.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xvvo0EL-hO4/T3DbmCVBmlI/AAAAAAAABI8/D24RqYfRCEM/s320/IMG_4813.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724316572894468690" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sarah being illegal.</i></div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M_Y5AUdXXis/T3Db_iyLqmI/AAAAAAAABJI/d-Lp71Qn450/s1600/IMG_4840.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M_Y5AUdXXis/T3Db_iyLqmI/AAAAAAAABJI/d-Lp71Qn450/s320/IMG_4840.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724317011103427170" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DUfALcYtrz4/T3DcmiJQ21I/AAAAAAAABJg/Cd8-Ge1XPlM/s1600/IMG_4884.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DUfALcYtrz4/T3DcmiJQ21I/AAAAAAAABJg/Cd8-Ge1XPlM/s320/IMG_4884.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724317680946699090" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T3g75ZQUUPo/T3DcSUb_khI/AAAAAAAABJU/JZkSXG_V5hA/s1600/IMG_4830.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T3g75ZQUUPo/T3DcSUb_khI/AAAAAAAABJU/JZkSXG_V5hA/s320/IMG_4830.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724317333669777938" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Coolest</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I could keep going with the Pompeii pictures, but I don't want to bore you. I just wanted to let it be known that I highly enjoyed myself there, to the point that I almost exploded.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">We headed back to Naples after Pompeii, where we treated ourselves to real Napolitan pizza - pizza was invented in Naples! We found a little place that a website recommended, and it turns out that the website listed it for a reason. This place was hopping with Italians (always a good sign), and only served <i>pizza margherita</i> and <i>pizza marinara</i> - also a good sign. Let me tell you, the stuff was delicious. I practically inhaled my pizza. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d5BN_behSk0/T3DeECPjqPI/AAAAAAAABJs/V3glTR-FnK4/s1600/IMG_4923.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d5BN_behSk0/T3DeECPjqPI/AAAAAAAABJs/V3glTR-FnK4/s320/IMG_4923.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5724319287290865906" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Seriously, so much nom happened.</i></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Full of pizza goodness, we went back to the train station (our home!) and waited in our old resting place, the cafe, until midnight, when we hopped on to yet another overnight bus, this one bound for Pisa! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Up next: Pisa, Paris, and Rome!</div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-38070520693264480052012-03-18T10:18:00.002-07:002012-03-18T10:47:49.488-07:00Quick Update!Ciao lovelies! I'm home safe and sound, but I'm currently dying of homework, seeing as I have a couple of psychotic professors who do things like assign a presentation and a paper the Monday and Tuesday after spring break. Until I can post for real, here's a little video I made in Rome, in the piazza outside my hotel!<div><br /><div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy43fjilosxgOjJ1dKgiR0Q9nK22vf64ecFvzAGY_Xfi3jaFAwbz7McT_n9FJTtJqaElRVOmmehw_SCiiPEjw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div></div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-56885276016719799392012-03-07T16:29:00.007-08:002012-03-07T16:52:56.106-08:00"Are you doing anything this week?" "Oh, you know, just visiting Naples, Paris, and Rome. Whatever."What I'm currently experiencing: midterms. <span style="font-style: normal; font-size: 100%; ">Thus the lack of posts. I kind of forgot that actual schoolwork was involved in this whole study abroad business... it was a rude surprise that yes, I am still capable of procrastinating my way into 5 hours or less of sleep per night during midterms. </span><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">However, lots of fun things are happening! My suitemate Sarah is currently visiting me (HOORAY!), and we leave tomorrow for NAPLES for my spring break. On the midnight bus. It's fine. We just won't ever ever sleep ever ever again. Ever. (Did I mention I'm never sleeping again? I did? Ok, I just wanted to make sure everyone understands. It's not like I'm making a big deal about it or anything.)</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">However, the NAPLES part of that sentence was the most important part. Because hello Pompeii! Hello beach! I think the weather might possibly hate us, but I'm just going to go ahead and pretend that if I believe that it will be sunny and 60+, then it will be. Obviously. </div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">After Naples comes Paris, then Rome. WHAT. I'll be gone for 10 days, and I'm beyond excited. It's highly possible that I'm going to die of happiness on this trip, because not only do I get to indulge my passion for Classics (aaaahhhh Pompeii and Rome aahhhhh), but I also get to see ALL OF THE ART! Seriously. My two requirements for Paris are the Louvre and Versailles, and my two art requirements for Rome are the Vatican (duh) and the Borghese, because asd;lfjsl;fjalfjsdl;kfaj Bernini. I don't know if y'all know Bernini, but he created some of the most beautiful statues in the history of ever. Plus MICHELANGELO, only my other favorite person ever. I'm slightly (ok more than slightly) worried that I'm going to start crying in front of his Pieta in Rome. It's fine. If you need me, I'll be the one sobbing in front of the statue. Don't worry. I'm not weird. </div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">Ciao for 10 days, ragazzi! </div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-woEYOBaXW2E/T1gApiizfTI/AAAAAAAABHE/HxhTgMZFtcg/s1600/IMG_4514.JPG" style="font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-woEYOBaXW2E/T1gApiizfTI/AAAAAAAABHE/HxhTgMZFtcg/s320/IMG_4514.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717320440594267442" /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><i>View of the Mediterranean from Carnevale in Viareggio last weekend.</i></div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-50755086455800324482012-03-04T04:56:00.008-08:002012-03-04T16:20:36.048-08:00Firenze, Take 2<span><span style="font-size: 100%;">I found my new favorite place in Florence! Last Friday I took a field trip to Florence to tour the Salvatore Ferragamo museum (for the non-fashion-obsessed, he is a huge shoe designer, and invented the wedge and the stiletto heels - grazie, Salvatore!), and afterwards, after coming oh so close to buying a beautiful leather cross-body bag, I wandered into the Boboli gardens of the Palazzo Pitti.</span></span><div style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><br /></span>These gardens were slightly like Versailles, if Versailles had Italian trees everywhere and was built on a big ol' hill. After walking through some of it, my friends and I found some grass and promptly soaked up the sun for an hour or two. It was glorious, especially since the weather was nice enough that I could take off my sweater. Crazy talk!</div><div><span><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-27CTWiMQkNY/T1QBnYq8FuI/AAAAAAAABGU/5n0Irkusqoo/s1600/IMG_4471.JPG" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-27CTWiMQkNY/T1QBnYq8FuI/AAAAAAAABGU/5n0Irkusqoo/s320/IMG_4471.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716195603189077730" /></a></span><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span>Palazzo Pitti from the gardens</span></i></div></div><div><span><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8PwI8uAOLSc/T1QB4Wl13qI/AAAAAAAABGg/pk6yB1NGgI4/s1600/IMG_4470.jpg" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 269px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8PwI8uAOLSc/T1QB4Wl13qI/AAAAAAAABGg/pk6yB1NGgI4/s320/IMG_4470.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716195894688603810" /></a></span><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span>Ari and Hannah, being cute</span></i></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fQugOw1GhDo/T1QDafvQsqI/AAAAAAAABGs/9OOFKSPYhdA/s1600/IMG_4478.JPG"><span><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fQugOw1GhDo/T1QDafvQsqI/AAAAAAAABGs/9OOFKSPYhdA/s320/IMG_4478.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716197580771209890" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span>Neptune founain</span></i></div></div><div><span><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bB9UMo1VLdU/T1QDhvgiYiI/AAAAAAAABG4/TGXPD6XOrFE/s1600/IMG_4475.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bB9UMo1VLdU/T1QDhvgiYiI/AAAAAAAABG4/TGXPD6XOrFE/s320/IMG_4475.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716197705263505954" /></a></span><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span>Crazy pretty view of Florence</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span>I want to go back every time I'm in Florence. Who knew that there was such a lovely green place in the middle of all that brick and stone? (Not to diss on the brick and stone, of course. Florence is so beautiful that I occasionally feel as though I've walked into a fairy tale.)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Po5ideKEMNs/T1QA6WdE8JI/AAAAAAAABGI/8WoCEDSZ1bM/s1600/IMG_4463.JPG" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Po5ideKEMNs/T1QA6WdE8JI/AAAAAAAABGI/8WoCEDSZ1bM/s320/IMG_4463.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716194829499953298" /></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span>Did I mention that I saw the Ponte Vecchio too? So medieval I could hardly stand it.</span></i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "></div></div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-43104560724714300622012-02-29T10:08:00.006-08:002012-02-29T14:14:11.193-08:00Prendo L'autobus Sbagliato<span style="font-style: normal; "><span style="font-size: 100%;">This afternoon I attempted to go to Acquacalda to teach English to my rowdily wonderful 4th graders, like I do every Wednesday. But it turns out that the road to Acquacalda is much more tricky than I thought, and I ended up going on an accidental adventure instead. </span></span><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Ari and I arrive at Piazza del Sale a few minutes before our bus was due, with tickets in hand, and lesson plan ready - so far, so good. Our bus was running a little late, so as soon as Ari and I see a bus 5, we jump on... who cares that it was technically at the bus stop 10 yards down the street - they're really just the same bus stop, right? I mean, a 5 is a 5, right? Right?!</span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>Approximately 2 minutes into the ride, Ari wonders out loud if we are on the right bus, since our route seems to be different. However, we quickly see familiar streets, so we go back to chatting and generally ignoring our whereabouts. 15 minutes into the bus ride, I look out the window and notice that we are most definitely not in a suburban area of Siena, nor are we 5 minutes away from Acquacalda school. Nope. We are in the country, surrounded by rolling green and brown hills. Hmm.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>"Ari? Look out the window. We don't normally come this way, do we?"</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>Ari looks out the window, and smiles in bafflement and bemusement. "No. Did we get on the wrong bus? How are we in the country?"</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>We definitely got on the 5, but we most certainly did not go to Acquacalda. Instead, we took a nice little 45 minute jaunt to San Piero, 12 km away from Siena, or in other words, way out in the boonies, heading into Chianti. </span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span><span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0gebkKRB414/T06itzH2tpI/AAAAAAAABF8/H92W7wPREUM/s1600/photo-32.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0gebkKRB414/T06itzH2tpI/AAAAAAAABF8/H92W7wPREUM/s320/photo-32.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5714683884880705170" /></a><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>Signpost at the end of the line - oh hey Siena, why so far away?</i></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: center; "><span><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>When the bus gets to the end of the line, Ari and I are the only people left on the bus, and the bus driver looks back at us, knowing fully well that we are dumb Americans. "Sbagliato, regazze?" (Wrong bus, girls?)</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>"SIIIII!" </span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>"Dove andate?" (Where are you going?)</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>"Siena!" (We had given up on getting to school at this point.)</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>The bus driver's shoulders visibly slump upon learning that we are so off track.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>"Ahiii. No torno a Siena fino alle 3:45." </span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>Alrighty then. We had 45 more minutes on the bus. Good to know. It was also good to know that the bus did in fact loop back to Siena, and that we wouldn't have to make a frantic call to Christina, our Resident Director, asking how to get home.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>We finally arrive back in Piazza del Sale, right at 3:45 like the bus driver said, and stop by CET on the way home to ask Christina why in the world the 5 bus didn't go to Acquacalda today. As soon as she hears what happened, she asks if we had gotten on the bus at the closer bus stop or the farther bus stop. It turns out that the 10 yards of difference between the 2 stops really do make a difference. Whoops. </span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><span>While I was a little bummed that we didn't get to play with our kids, especially since the next two weeks are midterms and spring break, I kind of enjoyed the unexpected adventure, as I'm never sad to see more of the gorgeous Tuscan countryside. Plus, it's not as if I was exactly surprised that I not only took the wrong bus, but didn't notice that it was wrong until 15 minutes into the trip - we are talking about the girl who once drove all the way around San Antonio under the mistaken belief that she was driving East on I-10. </span></div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-6077278674174070882012-02-24T08:35:00.004-08:002012-02-24T09:23:49.430-08:00Finalmente - La Primavera!Welcome to the beach... I mean, the Campo!<div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lm4s3OlJCB4/T0fG8VT6MvI/AAAAAAAABFk/5OWAddcLShE/s1600/IMG_4407.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lm4s3OlJCB4/T0fG8VT6MvI/AAAAAAAABFk/5OWAddcLShE/s320/IMG_4407.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712753392157864690" /></a><br /></div><div>It was absolutely gorgeous here today. I spent all afternoon sunbathing on the Campo with a friend, and I even got slightly burned (silly skin). </div><div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9vz-kUuCeZw/T0fHYRkSLDI/AAAAAAAABFw/zXIRYPqR1b0/s1600/IMG_4410.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9vz-kUuCeZw/T0fHYRkSLDI/AAAAAAAABFw/zXIRYPqR1b0/s320/IMG_4410.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712753872189140018" /></a><br /></div><div>Have you ever seen sky so blue?</div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-10183110147167918202012-02-20T12:42:00.004-08:002012-02-20T12:54:46.277-08:00The Most Important FoodGuys. I have a problem. It's called Nutella. I believe that I am in serious danger of becoming Nutella soon if I don't stop eating it. <div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">Am I going to stop eating massive quantities of Nutella? Not on your life. </div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">Want to see a scary picture? Here are all the jars of Nutella Rachel and I have gone through in the 4 1/2 weeks we've been here:</div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zM1ysBhM53g/T0Kw-0CyB2I/AAAAAAAABFM/wSBcEmKM608/s1600/IMG_4349.JPG" style="font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zM1ysBhM53g/T0Kw-0CyB2I/AAAAAAAABFM/wSBcEmKM608/s320/IMG_4349.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711321870627899234" /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><i>Oh lordy, that's scary</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">In our defense we've only actually eaten four of those... the two flanking the generic Nutella at the bottom are still completely full.</div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; ">We were going to buy the giant jar of Nutella, but then we discovered that the smaller jars are actually drinking glasses when the Nutella is gone... and these particular ones are Looney Tunes themed. Obviously we needed them.</div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3b4wFPYty24/T0Kxn_fzpmI/AAAAAAAABFY/Efd-QLKUuYM/s1600/IMG_4353.JPG" style="font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3b4wFPYty24/T0Kxn_fzpmI/AAAAAAAABFY/Efd-QLKUuYM/s320/IMG_4353.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711322578077066850" /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><i>TWEETY IS ON MY NUTELLA</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Before y'all go around thinking that I am just a sad, sad, unusual person sitting inside the house and eating Nutella all day, you should know that everyone else is just as obsessed (I suppose that doesn't mean I'm not a sad, sad person sitting around eating Nutella, but that's beside the point).</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">My friend Kyle has gone through 3 enormous jars while she's been here, and has confessed that the first thing she does upon waking up is grab her spoon and dig into the Nutella. My friend Ari uses Nutella in our Italian class whenever she needs an example of food she likes/has eaten recently/would like to eat now. <span style="font-size: 100%; ">Stella wakes up in the middle of the night in a panic if she runs out. (I would also like to point out that this is not purely an Italian phenomenon - my friends all over Europe have a similar addiction.)</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Nutella. It's addicting. And very, very important.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; "><br /></div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-48835230817710466552012-02-18T09:08:00.013-08:002012-02-18T10:20:50.088-08:00Faccio Una Passegiata<span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Today I communed with nature.</span></span><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; ">I know. I, Faith the nature hater, communed with nature. I can understand if you're worried that you're hallucinating right now.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; ">But it turns out that after you live in a medieval walled city for a while, where the houses form a continuous block of stone and leave only a small rectangle at the top for the sky to peekthrough, you start to feel claustrophobic. Especially if you're from Texas, land of the big sky.</div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NHpkrd3n6qA/Tz_lR2OBDlI/AAAAAAAABDI/KEWDl4wz_Is/s1600/IMG_3672.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NHpkrd3n6qA/Tz_lR2OBDlI/AAAAAAAABDI/KEWDl4wz_Is/s320/IMG_3672.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710534947303919186" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Almost every street looks something like this.</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; ">I haven't had a chance to explore Siena as much as I would like, because it's been so upsettinglycold here for the past few weeks, but this weekend it finally warmed up to about 50 F. Thus, since it was warmer, and most of my program is at Venice this weekend (alas, I'm poor), I decided to see some of Siena's sights, and find some grass.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; ">Yesterday, I ventured out to, La Pinacoteca, Siena's art museum, where I saw 4 floors full of Byzantine art, with a little Renaissance thrown in. So many Madonnas.</div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PBgVvQti_ww/Tz_mSq64oLI/AAAAAAAABDU/vnDC5JbSHTs/s1600/IMG_4270.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PBgVvQti_ww/Tz_mSq64oLI/AAAAAAAABDU/vnDC5JbSHTs/s320/IMG_4270.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710536060962382002" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; ">Now for some wandering.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; "><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0JMpMF8wtMU/Tz_mshMPU-I/AAAAAAAABDg/RaVw_xNFaZY/s1600/IMG_4271.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0JMpMF8wtMU/Tz_mshMPU-I/AAAAAAAABDg/RaVw_xNFaZY/s320/IMG_4271.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710536505027417058" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>I found Contrada Tartuca! I love unexpectedly finding a new Contrada.</i></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_NxegtZ9Lk/Tz_nm1VSDhI/AAAAAAAABD4/Jt2EG7WuQuE/s1600/IMG_4296.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g_NxegtZ9Lk/Tz_nm1VSDhI/AAAAAAAABD4/Jt2EG7WuQuE/s320/IMG_4296.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710537506866466322" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>One of the gates to the city</i></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OM31nHy3KtI/Tz_nIF4Q9OI/AAAAAAAABDs/yn72t_fhkOU/s1600/IMG_4277.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OM31nHy3KtI/Tz_nIF4Q9OI/AAAAAAAABDs/yn72t_fhkOU/s320/IMG_4277.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710536978732217570" /></a><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Darling Italian garden (see the grass! mission accomplished)</i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; ">Today I was once again crazy and in need of nature, so I went to see the Sanctuario della Santa Caterina, and find more grass.</div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yEtADXZftiU/Tz_o5wWvp2I/AAAAAAAABEE/yRS91SJ-OKM/s1600/IMG_4315.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yEtADXZftiU/Tz_o5wWvp2I/AAAAAAAABEE/yRS91SJ-OKM/s320/IMG_4315.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710538931459565410" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span><i>Statue of St. Catherine inside her sanctuary</i></span></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-25iPLmLAQ5k/Tz_phCm1iEI/AAAAAAAABEQ/zo2zcWj62YM/s1600/IMG_4319.JPG" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-25iPLmLAQ5k/Tz_phCm1iEI/AAAAAAAABEQ/zo2zcWj62YM/s320/IMG_4319.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710539606373795906" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><u><br /></u></span></div><div>Now for grass. I made my way outside the walls again, and found myself a nifty little hike up the side of a hill.</div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vrca1VHvT68/Tz_p1-FKa7I/AAAAAAAABEc/GmZX9egIYY4/s1600/IMG_4322.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vrca1VHvT68/Tz_p1-FKa7I/AAAAAAAABEc/GmZX9egIYY4/s320/IMG_4322.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710539965936069554" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dCQ6kcKIiwE/Tz_qDdHFQxI/AAAAAAAABEo/idWamuLpu-U/s1600/IMG_4326.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dCQ6kcKIiwE/Tz_qDdHFQxI/AAAAAAAABEo/idWamuLpu-U/s320/IMG_4326.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710540197603918610" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>View from the top</i></div></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rZIzMCMfkjk/Tz_qhaDYCvI/AAAAAAAABE0/LQghEmOnec4/s1600/IMG_4328.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rZIzMCMfkjk/Tz_qhaDYCvI/AAAAAAAABE0/LQghEmOnec4/s320/IMG_4328.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710540712179141362" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Why is this area enclosed? Is it a sheep pen? I really want it to be a sheep pen. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sheep are just about the only farm animals that I don't actively despise/am not terrified of.</i></div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fYCTXAibjkE/Tz_qpEC0YmI/AAAAAAAABFA/8iHr0Ib6D1k/s1600/IMG_4333.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fYCTXAibjkE/Tz_qpEC0YmI/AAAAAAAABFA/8iHr0Ib6D1k/s320/IMG_4333.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710540843710177890" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>In fine, what's a good walk without a gorgeous sunset?</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sorry for the picture-heavy post, but the images describe everything far better than I would!</div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-26398410940844840572012-02-12T08:26:00.001-08:002012-02-18T10:22:22.860-08:00Buon Compleanno, Lino!<span><span style="font-size: 100%;">Yesterday Rachel and I got to experience the happiest of events, an Italian family birthday party. It was Lino's 60th birthday; he's Francesco's dad and Stella's ex. The whole crew was there - Stella, Lino, Francesco (Stella's son), Natascia (Francesco's live-in girlfriend), Marta (Natascia's daughter), Cosimo (Francesco and Natascia's son), Gabriello (Lino's son and Francesco's brother), and us 2 American girls. </span></span><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; "><br /></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-style: normal; ">Stella bought a fantastic cake of chocolately tiramisu-like goodness shaped in a 60, and Rachel and I ate up 2 pieces each -what's that? you want to give me another piece because you accidentally bought too large of a cake? I suppose I can make that sacrifice... - and drank champagne and basked in the boisterous Italian goodness. It's possible that I only understood about a third to half of the conversation, but just hearing the lovely language and being around the family's happiness was enough for me.<br /><div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vjj4JN9oejk/Tzf1ZvJQhGI/AAAAAAAABC8/_3SL00I3f8o/s1600/IMG_4240.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 259px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vjj4JN9oejk/Tzf1ZvJQhGI/AAAAAAAABC8/_3SL00I3f8o/s320/IMG_4240.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5708300875216225378" /></a></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i>Lino himself, with Cosimo and cake and champagne... </i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span><span style="font-size: 100%;">The longer I've been here, the more I love the homestay experience. I absolutely adore the way I'm able to experience the inner workings of an Italian family, especially such a wonderful family. You all already know how much I'm obsessed with Stella, but the rest of the family is equally fantastic. They've thoroughly welcomed Rachel and me into the family, and we're </span>ecstatic<span style="font-size: 100%;"> about it. </span></span></div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-7794881555294477422012-02-10T08:41:00.000-08:002012-02-10T09:54:49.410-08:00Ciao regazzi! Erm, I mean, hey kids!This past Wednesday, I embarked on a new adventure - teaching English to elementary school students! <div><br /></div><div>It would seem that there is a dearth of English teachers in elementary schools in Italy, since schools are required by law to teach their children English, but most of them do not hire separate English teachers for the job. However, not every school teacher actually knows English, with the result that many elementary school children do not learn much more than their colors and numbers before they go to middle school, where they are expected to know enough English to read literature.<div><br /></div><div>So, a man named Mike in Siena has created a volunteer program for American students to teach English to elementary kids weekly. I've been wanting something to fill my time more during the week, and I always want to meet more Italians and improve my Italian, so I readily agreed to sign up, and was paired up with my friend Ari to teach a classroom of 4th graders.</div><div><br /></div><div>On Wednesday, Ari and I excitedly trudged over to meet up with Christina, our Resident Director, who was going to take us to the school so that we didn't get lost our first time. We have to take a bus, since Acquacalda, the neighborhood the school is in, is outside Siena's walls. Well, we ended up getting off the bus a stop early, so we wandered around a bit before Christina asked a construction man how to find the school. </div><div><br /></div><div>But look at the pretty view we found! </div><div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z_sH6OSoa80/TzVTGpbD24I/AAAAAAAABCM/QZvGjETfRfQ/s1600/IMG_4238.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z_sH6OSoa80/TzVTGpbD24I/AAAAAAAABCM/QZvGjETfRfQ/s320/IMG_4238.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707559476425644930" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Stop being pretty, Tuscany!</i><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1eYp3nlCAKA/TzVVx3PlWOI/AAAAAAAABCY/Ur_FvmzsrKU/s1600/IMG_4239.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1eYp3nlCAKA/TzVVx3PlWOI/AAAAAAAABCY/Ur_FvmzsrKU/s320/IMG_4239.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707562417893234914" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A picture of Ari taking a picture. SO META!</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>However, the shenanigans didn't really begin until after we were inside the school. We wandered around a labyrinth of brightly colored stairs and hallways for 5 minutes before finally finding the correct classroom, when Christina went inside to tell the teacher that we were there. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ari and I stood awkwardly in the hallway as we heard Christina discover that the teacher had no idea that we were coming... no idea that we were volunteering in her classroom at all, in fact! Whoops. However, she was very amenable to the idea of volunteers, and she invited us into the classroom so that we could introduce ourselves to the kids.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I hadn't been nervous about teaching at all until I stood in front of a bunch of (adorable) Italian children and realized that I knew almost no Italian. Crap. That's scary. But the kids were pretty star-struck by us, and were amazed that they got to talk to actual Americans. They actually knew a surprising amount of English (hooray!), and they asked us questions like, "How old are you?", "Do you have a dog?", "What is your favorite sport?" (I was nice and did not tell them of my disdain for sports, instead answering that I liked soccer, and got a big <i>BRAVA!</i> from the boys), and, the ever-present question from 8 year old girls, "Do you have a boyfriend?" (they are always oh so disappointed when I don't).</div><div><br /></div><div>We go back next week for our actual first lesson, and the teacher gave us a theme of animals to work with, since they'll be working on action verbs and animals then. I'm very excited - I plan to play lots of games and sing Old MacDonald. Ari wants to teach them some Kanye... </div><div><br /></div><div>p.s. Proof that I'm a fantastic American and watched the Superbowl at midnight! </div><div><br /></div><div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IwWx9a9ZHZI/TzVZzekDPXI/AAAAAAAABCk/4_1Wg3t4Yko/s1600/IMG_4228.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IwWx9a9ZHZI/TzVZzekDPXI/AAAAAAAABCk/4_1Wg3t4Yko/s320/IMG_4228.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707566843674443122" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-61184475207615274902012-02-05T12:05:00.000-08:002012-02-05T14:27:23.324-08:00La Vita Italiano, Numero DueSome more observations about life in Italia...<div><br /></div><div>1. Italian toilets are weird! Or at least they don't flush like American toilets. The water closet is often up on the wall, with a little button on the bottom that you push to flush. Like so:</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DomUnKda0Kw/Ty77YHP9i9I/AAAAAAAABBQ/pa3phf7_dd8/s1600/IMG_4226.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DomUnKda0Kw/Ty77YHP9i9I/AAAAAAAABBQ/pa3phf7_dd8/s320/IMG_4226.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705774169606425554" /></a><br /></div><div>Also, not only are the toilets strange, the faucets can sometimes be difficult. During my first week of classes, some of us went to a bar between classes for a cappuccino, and I decided to go wash my hands. I go into the bathroom, and don't see any water handles. No biggie, it's probably automatic. I wave my hands around the faucet. Nothing. </div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe it's a touch faucet! I hit the faucet all over, hoping water will come out. </div><div><br /></div><div>NOPE. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ok, now I'm getting desperate. I really want to wash my hands. I decide that maybe I have to unscrew the top of the faucet a little bit to get the water to come out - that's logical, right? </div><div><br /></div><div>All I succeed in doing is screwing the top all the way off the faucet. </div><div><br /></div><div>I guiltily screw it back on, and realize that I might have to go ask someone how to wash my hands. No, that feels too stupid. I <i>will</i> figure out how to wash my hands, dangit! </div><div><br /></div><div>I scan the bathroom in a panic, looking for something, <i>anything</i> that seems conducive to water, and I realize that there are two pedals on the floor beneath the sink - one red, one blue. I step on the blue one, and, sweet moses alive, blessed water pours out of the faucet. </div><div><br /></div><div>Hallelujah. Never mind that I spent 10 minutes trying to wash my hands, I figured it out, darnit.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Water costs money. Every time you go to a restaurant, you have to pay 1-2 euro if you want to drink water - tap water is not an option. I think this has been one of the hardest things for my roommate Rachel to adjust to: she's still shocked and appalled that we have to pay money if we want something to drink.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. ART! All I have to do to see Siena's gorgeous Duomo is walk 10 minutes. I find that incredible.</div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N_07dfvNXOA/Ty78SHB7RDI/AAAAAAAABBc/Qc-7kqTlpJQ/s1600/IMG_3886.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-N_07dfvNXOA/Ty78SHB7RDI/AAAAAAAABBc/Qc-7kqTlpJQ/s320/IMG_3886.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705775165979968562" /></a><div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x5aCYRJgUD8/Ty784Z7PGuI/AAAAAAAABBo/wJhHS0Zmy0E/s1600/IMG_3914.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x5aCYRJgUD8/Ty784Z7PGuI/AAAAAAAABBo/wJhHS0Zmy0E/s320/IMG_3914.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705775823887211234" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sI2-vKkFjkI/Ty79W2DAZjI/AAAAAAAABB0/O9ZwGXcdc9w/s1600/IMG_3963.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sI2-vKkFjkI/Ty79W2DAZjI/AAAAAAAABB0/O9ZwGXcdc9w/s320/IMG_3963.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705776346832070194" /></a><br /></div><div>Moreover, there's this little place called Florence that's just an hour's bus ride from Siena, where one can see such jaw-dropping things as Donatello's Mary Magdalen:</div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KdXU0rOD3wI/Ty7-iGqV_jI/AAAAAAAABCA/rqDVFeWg4CI/s1600/IMG_4176.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KdXU0rOD3wI/Ty7-iGqV_jI/AAAAAAAABCA/rqDVFeWg4CI/s320/IMG_4176.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705777639782219314" /></a><div>Yup. I stood in front of Donatello's Mary Magdalen. No biggie. It's only my favorite piece by him. I was in Florence on a field trip when I saw this, and my notes at this point basically consist of a bunch of scribbles surrounded by awe-struck expletives. </div><div><br /></div><div>We also saw a couple of pieces by Michelangelo while we were in Florence - only my favorite artist of all time. What. Is this real life? I didn't realize that we would be seeing any Michelangelo, so I was quite shocked when my professor said, "And now we're going to pop down and see some Michelangelo." WHAT? We're going to "pop down" to see Michelangelo? One does not "pop down" to see Michelangelo. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was pretty much in a state of shock and awe during the entire field trip - I find it incredible that I was able to see so much unbelievable art so easily. It's the sort of thing that almost doesn't seem real... how is it possible that I actually stood in front of so many enormously important works of art? These are pieces of art of such magnitude that when I read about them in America, they don't seem real. Surely such wonderful things can't exist in the real world... they only exist in books, right? But it would seem that I was wrong, and that they are entirely real. </div><div><br /></div><div>Excuse me while my head explodes from amazement.</div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-53648395153894256252012-02-02T08:54:00.000-08:002012-02-02T12:57:53.387-08:00A Snow Day, Siena Style<div>At the moment, Siena is a place of magic and delight - or in other words, SNOW! It snowed for about 24 hours starting on Wednesday afternoon, and when the storm cleared, six inches of snow were on the ground. Rachel and I woke up to this on Wednesday morning:</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pxk6wo8_gZg/TyrAJyhHEYI/AAAAAAAAA_w/2dDOiNHGlfI/s1600/IMG_4123.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pxk6wo8_gZg/TyrAJyhHEYI/AAAAAAAAA_w/2dDOiNHGlfI/s320/IMG_4123.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704583152430158210" /></a><div>Our immediate response was, "Aaaaah look how pretty! DO WE HAVE SCHOOL?!" We checked our email. Nothing. Eternal sadness. But then my phone rang and I answered to hear the dulcet tones of my Resident Director's voice telling me that the buses to Siena were out and class was cancelled. Glory hallelujah - snow day! Apparently this kind of snow is extremely rare in Siena and in Tuscany in general, so the area isn't prepared to deal with it, and shuts down. It reminds me of a certain school in Texas... :) </div><div><br /></div><div>After we learned that we didn't have class, Rachel and I raced to tell Stella (who immediately went back to bed) and promptly bundled up to go out to the Campo to play in the snow! The street was quite treacherous, what with the cobblestones and the slush.</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l9-Vtpil68k/TyrAVGrpEJI/AAAAAAAAA_8/daxEIkU4z6o/s1600/IMG_4124.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l9-Vtpil68k/TyrAVGrpEJI/AAAAAAAAA_8/daxEIkU4z6o/s320/IMG_4124.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704583346821599378" /></a>When we got to the Campo, we found it metamorphosed into a winter wonderland.<div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8aAR9fQL0KM/Tyr1cVTWC4I/AAAAAAAABAs/_0Ih8XhxGzs/s1600/IMG_4130.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8aAR9fQL0KM/Tyr1cVTWC4I/AAAAAAAABAs/_0Ih8XhxGzs/s320/IMG_4130.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704641745121577858" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l1QY5srQcJU/Tyr13uqS0ZI/AAAAAAAABA4/E6xyzP4e8gI/s1600/IMG_4143.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l1QY5srQcJU/Tyr13uqS0ZI/AAAAAAAABA4/E6xyzP4e8gI/s320/IMG_4143.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704642215785189778" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I8hiYZ8Nobc/Tyr2EYuQisI/AAAAAAAABBE/fCNb0XO5p2Q/s1600/IMG_4131.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I8hiYZ8Nobc/Tyr2EYuQisI/AAAAAAAABBE/fCNb0XO5p2Q/s320/IMG_4131.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704642433234537154" /></a><div>We marveled at the beauty of it all for a few minutes, but our inner children soon took over, and we built a snowman.</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OxteECcmeKE/TyrAlRr77ZI/AAAAAAAABAI/lBLuZHviOYQ/s1600/IMG_4134.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OxteECcmeKE/TyrAlRr77ZI/AAAAAAAABAI/lBLuZHviOYQ/s320/IMG_4134.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704583624653532562" /></a></div><div>Soon after we finished the snowman, our friend Evan showed up and we did all of the stereotypical snow activities - snow angels, a snowball fight, and we even built a snow fort! We also decided that Italian snow is prettier than American snow. :)</div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YDWFJ1F_B2o/TyrTBmukaKI/AAAAAAAABAg/AlecIm0cKw4/s1600/IMG_4145.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YDWFJ1F_B2o/TyrTBmukaKI/AAAAAAAABAg/AlecIm0cKw4/s320/IMG_4145.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704603902547355810" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yt9ji2gy1fo/TyrN6EpxZ6I/AAAAAAAABAU/2dY12-yUbrE/s1600/IMG_4154.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yt9ji2gy1fo/TyrN6EpxZ6I/AAAAAAAABAU/2dY12-yUbrE/s320/IMG_4154.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704598275583207330" /></a><div>After we tired ourselves out and were walking home, wet, cold, and happy, with beautifully fat snowflakes still falling from the sky, I began to reflect on the fact that I was currently in a snowstorm in Europe, and in Italy, no less. How wonderful and magical can life get? I still can't quite wrap my head around the idea that I am living in Italy for the next 4 months, and this snowstorm served to make my life seem even more like a fairy-tale.</div><br /><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/lkFP0VwpPRY" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-52238454643180910742012-01-31T08:03:00.000-08:002012-01-31T08:55:15.829-08:00A Whirlwind Tour of Perugia and AssisiCiao, wonderful readers! <div><br /></div><div>This past weekend I went on my first trip outside of Siena, to Perugia and Assisi! For the geographically challenged (like myself), here is a little map of Italy.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LMgScJeSuIM/TygVg8BbVKI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/I0vlipFUdyU/s1600/map_of_italy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LMgScJeSuIM/TygVg8BbVKI/AAAAAAAAA-Q/I0vlipFUdyU/s320/map_of_italy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703832583676843170" /></a>See Siena in the middle-ish? Directly to the right you'll find Perugia and Assisi sandwiched right next to each other all cosy-like, in the region of Umbria.</div><div><br /></div><div>12 out of us 13 CET students (Kyle was visiting a friend in Florence) decided to take a little weekend jaunt to explore the two cities. So, on Saturday morning bright and early, I stepped onto my first vehicular transportation since arriving in Siena, and endured four hours of travel to Perugia. Once at the Perugia train stop, being the intelligent college students that we are, we decided to eschew the difficult task of finding a bus to take us into the city center, and instead decided to walk to our hostel. This doesn't sound like a very daunting task, but we quickly realized that Perugia is at the top of a <b>mountain</b>! Ok, maybe not a mountain, but it is an extremely large, steep hill! Here's an idea of the incline we were up against.</div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BWWWl-wqnVY/TygVvPU77jI/AAAAAAAAA-c/iH3KjoxJeAU/s1600/IMG_3996.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BWWWl-wqnVY/TygVvPU77jI/AAAAAAAAA-c/iH3KjoxJeAU/s320/IMG_3996.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703832829377113650" /></a><div>However, 45 minutes later, we found ourselves at the top, and were rewarded for our labours with this view.</div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qzsF8Nd53KU/TygWCqgCxRI/AAAAAAAAA-s/qFaePVNbIn4/s1600/IMG_4017.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qzsF8Nd53KU/TygWCqgCxRI/AAAAAAAAA-s/qFaePVNbIn4/s320/IMG_4017.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703833163088971026" /></a><div>Definitely worth it.</div><div><br /></div><div>As we attempted to find our hostel, we found ourselves enveloped by a group of American students on a tour of the city, and the tour guide, history professor Zach, asked us to join in. Naturally, we said yes. Zach gave us his free, "no facts" tour, and we learned such things as the fact that Perugia has the proud distinction of owning the 3rd ugliest cathedral in Europe.</div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2GVQgGbQQ1A/TygX2SPFPtI/AAAAAAAAA-0/UTwpHoRfLB8/s1600/IMG_4040.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2GVQgGbQQ1A/TygX2SPFPtI/AAAAAAAAA-0/UTwpHoRfLB8/s320/IMG_4040.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703835149440204498" /></a><div>I'm going to have to say that yes, it is one of the ugliest cathedrals I have ever seen. Almost like an enormous stone barn. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here's a totes gorge (yes I did just abbreviate totally gorgeous as totes gorge) view of Perugia extending into the Umbrian countryside.</div><div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WeOYBGYAwnc/TygZKPZSsLI/AAAAAAAAA_A/v_OYrJR7mZY/s1600/IMG_4055.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WeOYBGYAwnc/TygZKPZSsLI/AAAAAAAAA_A/v_OYrJR7mZY/s320/IMG_4055.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703836591786733746" /></a><br /></div><div>After a night of delicious food and a very clean hostel, we were off to Assisi! I do believe I enjoyed Assisi more than Perugia, simply because it is one of the more charming towns I have ever had the pleasure to visit. Plus, um, St. Francis hails from Assisi, and thus Assisi has San Francesco.</div><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mFlq9DUcjtA/TygZx59Q0sI/AAAAAAAAA_M/o8Sw0FGijbk/s1600/IMG_4072.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mFlq9DUcjtA/TygZx59Q0sI/AAAAAAAAA_M/o8Sw0FGijbk/s320/IMG_4072.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703837273226793666" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pox8d3KUJdI/TygaD8cMNeI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/jEBT0S44UNk/s1600/IMG_4108.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Pox8d3KUJdI/TygaD8cMNeI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/jEBT0S44UNk/s320/IMG_4108.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703837583131031010" /></a><div>Boom. How do Assisians (Assisites? Assisinians?) handle so much beauty staring them in the face every day? Pictures were not allowed inside the basilica, but I can tell you that the walls were lined with frescoes depicting St. Francis' life, that the ceilings were covered in one of the most beautiful azure colors I have ever seen, and that the whole place resounded with mystical loveliness.</div><div><br /></div><div>On that note, it is highly possible that Italy may give me a new appreciation for the country. I have never seen such a lovely countryside before, and after spending all of my time sandwiched between stone houses and stone streets, with only a sliver of sky above me, I want to explore the country more. How could you not, when the country looks like this?</div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LSBn2f397D4/Tygb3eQh6CI/AAAAAAAAA_k/fXSmyopHZt0/s1600/IMG_4119.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LSBn2f397D4/Tygb3eQh6CI/AAAAAAAAA_k/fXSmyopHZt0/s320/IMG_4119.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703839567893882914" /></a>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8983710444383322562.post-28042578908782871472012-01-26T07:33:00.000-08:002012-01-26T08:09:32.700-08:00Benvenuti a Via Montanini!Who's ready for an introduction to my homestay? I live with the lovely Stella Palazzolo (and Rachel, of course) on Via Montanini 28, and it is wonderful, particularly as regards location. We are 5 minutes from school, 5 minutes from the Campo, 2 minutes from the grocery store... you get the point.<div><div><br /></div><div>The view from the street...</div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lb-toPLZKgc/TyF0p0TFdbI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/xFqlEg0LUsY/s1600/IMG_3717.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lb-toPLZKgc/TyF0p0TFdbI/AAAAAAAAA8Y/xFqlEg0LUsY/s320/IMG_3717.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701966864989910450" /></a>If you're wondering why there is a giant green neon sign above the archway, that is because the Albergo hotel lives right next door to us. If you go down this tunnel and open the door on your right, you'll be in Stella's apartment building; if you go the tunnel and open the door on the left, you'll be in the Albergo.<div><br /></div><div>Stella lives on the 2nd floor, and her apartment actually takes up the whole floor, consisting of 3 bedrooms, 1 bath (we think... ), a teensy kitchen, and a dining/living room. (side note: Stella owns a piano, so I'll be able to keep my fingers from getting too itchy while I'm here!)</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's our room...<br /><div><br /></div></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lx_w_Q8uL9w/TyF1jCNlYTI/AAAAAAAAA8k/f1SrhtYWtGs/s1600/IMG_3876.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lx_w_Q8uL9w/TyF1jCNlYTI/AAAAAAAAA8k/f1SrhtYWtGs/s320/IMG_3876.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701967847977476402" /></a><div>This used to be Stella's son Francesco's room, and apparently he is the one who painted the wardrobe. My bed is the one on the right!</div><div><br /></div><div>The view of the other side of the room, with desks, window, and the all-important radiator (no central heating in Italian houses... brr)...</div><div><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v9VApph4whA/TyF2W_G-uSI/AAAAAAAAA8w/5QaVtxY5JHc/s1600/IMG_3877.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v9VApph4whA/TyF2W_G-uSI/AAAAAAAAA8w/5QaVtxY5JHc/s320/IMG_3877.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701968740497668386" /></a><div><br /></div><div>Here's my desk, complete with pictures I brought with me to stave off homesickness...</div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Swj6kIim7I0/TyF3CZ_YQQI/AAAAAAAAA88/HkeC4d1yQKY/s1600/IMG_3708.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Swj6kIim7I0/TyF3CZ_YQQI/AAAAAAAAA88/HkeC4d1yQKY/s320/IMG_3708.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701969486447919362" /></a><div>Now, you may be asking, "why is this room so neat and clean? Faith must have taken these pictures the first day she moved in. There's no way her room is this clean after a week."</div><div><br /></div><div>Wellll, firstly, my roommate is a clean person, so I feel bad letting my messy nature show. Secondly, and most importantly, Stella cleans our room every day. Seriously. She comes in, makes the beds (remakes them if we attempted to make them ourselves), straightens our desks, hangs up any stray jackets... it's ridiculous. So, we feel really terrible if we leave our stuff around, and then any stray mess is taken care of by Stella. She even does our laundry for us! This gets slightly awkward when it comes to washing underwear and the like, since Europeans are not so into using clothes dryers - they hang their clothes up to drip-dry, generally on a line outside the window of the apartment. I could show you a picture of the laundry outside the apartment right now, but I really feel no desire to show the internet my underwear, so here is a random example from Siena.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--H2Z6ipuRpA/TyF5HmftFjI/AAAAAAAAA9I/K3KbR2bsHOo/s1600/IMG_3839.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--H2Z6ipuRpA/TyF5HmftFjI/AAAAAAAAA9I/K3KbR2bsHOo/s320/IMG_3839.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701971774727329330" /></a></div><div>It's quite picturesque when it's not one's own laundry.</div><div><br /></div><div>And that is where I spend my time! At least, it is when I'm not in classes, wandering through Siena, or soaking up the sun in the Campo (I plan to spend a lot of time lizard-ing it up in the Campo - it's wonderful there, and a perfect place to people-watch). </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Ciao a tutti!</i></div><div><br /></div></div>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09779312006299935064noreply@blogger.com0