I am avidly avoiding writing this Ancient Rome and its Monuments paper, so I'll write another blog entry instead, this time on the topic of customer service.
Customer service does not exist in Italy. "The customer is always right" is a completely foreign concept here and I love it. Having worked in retail, I despise the notion of having to treat a customer with polite respect, even if that customer is treating you like dirt. I don't really understand how America got to the point of treating service people like sub-humans. The customer most certainly is not always right, so why must we pretend that he/she is a deity deigning us with his/her patronage? Italy has got it right and instead of "customer service" has mutual respect between customer and shop owner. Here is the difference:
In America, a man walks into a clothing store and demands three button down shirts of specific colors and size. When the size and/or colors are not in stock, the man flips out and blames the sales people, not taking into account that they are not responsible for his size being out of stock that particular day. The sales people work their hardest to calm the man down, but he insists on seeing a manager. He yells at the manager for "poor customer service" because his need for these shirts was extreme, so to assuage his anger, the manager give him a coupon, the man vows to never shop in that store again, and storms out.
In Italy, a man walks into a clothing store and demands three button down shirt of specific colors and size. Since all the sales people are currently busy with other customers or on their cell phones, he will just have to wait. Once he is finally helped, if his size is not found, this will be presented as a cold hard fact with no apologetic explanation. If he throws a fit, he will be ignored until he leaves the store.
Some may cringe at the Italian scenario, but I think it is much more efficient and makes so much more sense. In the American situation, precious time and energy is wasted and taking care of this one crazy man, while in the Italian situation, since he's not nice, they're not nice, and the nice customers who actually deserve help from the sales people get service.
Mutual respect is key and I don't know why this isn't a tennet of American shopping. It's obvious; if you are nice to the people who are helping you, they will be nice to you in return. If you're a jerk, sure they'll help you in America, but they won't do their best work. In Italy, that's taken a step further. If you're nice, you are the worker's best friend and get special perks (like extra chocolate powder in your cappuccino or a look at the latest clothing arrivals). If you're a jerk, you will not be helped at all and you might as well just take your complaining outside because it will get you no where. This is how I envision a Utopian commercial environment.
True, things run slower in Italy and it is not perfect. You can stand around in a crowded store for a very long time, waiting to be helped. In a shoe store, for example, a sales person will get you your shoes, help you put them on, then wait with you, examining the shoes, getting more sizes and styles, until you have decided on a purchase. Therefore, if all the sales associates are with customers, you have to wait until someone buys something and leaves until you are helped.
Shopping in Italy can be a bit awkward since once you try something on or look at something for an extended period of time you are expected to buy it. I was trying on gloves yesterday at one of the many glove shops near the Spanish Steps. It was just me and the shop owner in the store and after trying on one pair of gloves, I knew I didn't want them. However, since I was being "nice" and she was being "nice" she brought out several other pairs of gloves she thought I might like and had me try them on. I did not want these gloves. I finally escaped with a "promise" of returning later to buy the gloves, but the woman only gave me a dirty look as I was exiting. Shopping around isn't a very Italian ideal, I guess.
The sales people in Italy (and Italians in general) can be a bit blunt. Actually, they are incredibly straightforward. They will tell you if something looks bad, or if you need a bigger size, or if that outfit is just not for you. Such comments are never meant to be offensive, they are just meant as brutal truths that one should accept. I've mentioned before that buying knee high boots here has been a struggle because my "man calves" won't fit into the tiny Italian boots. An instance of boots not fitting happened again yesterday and when I told the sales person that they didn't fit in the legs, she said, "Yes, you are no model. Let me find you something with elastic." Shocked and appauled were the first things that came to mind, but when I considered where I was, I was not offended at all. She didn't mean it as an insult, it was simply a fact and an example of the size-consciously blunt Italians. This kind of mentality would come in handy in the states, where muffin tops and too-tight jeans abound. The women here are indeed skinnier, but it's no shame to not be stick thin. You just have to realize your size and buy the elastic boots.
So there's my analysis of shopping in Italy. Lessons learned? America should ditch its system of being nice to disrespectful customers and adopt Italy's blunt and self-respecting lack of customer service.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
What IS Pink Sauce?
I've been in a blog rut lately of only describing my weekend trips. Since I'm in Rome this entire weekend, I thought I'd take the opportunity to tell you some fun little anecdotes about one of the best parts of Italy--the food. Thank God there's an hour long walk to school every day, because Italy is basically made of carbs.
First, I shall describe the gelato. Gelato is the best thing in the world, and, dare I say it, even better than Handels ice cream. It's creamy, colorful, and delicious, especially at Old Bridge. Old Bridge is located right outside the Vatican Walls and frequented by the ND kids several times a week. What makes Old Bridge so good? Allow me to express this in a poem
Ode to Old Bridge
Oh, dearest Old Bridge
You're gelato is the best
Baccio, Fragola, Crema
All the flavors have some zest
You're staff, young and fun
Wear silly white hats
The flavors, creamy and bright
And numerous as Rome's cats
Right outside the Vatican
Your price cannot be beat
Una copetta di uno e cinquanta!
Now that is a great feat
Oh, dearest Old Bridge
Your loveliness I will miss
There's nothing like it in the states
But I can always wish...
So basically, the gelato is really good.
Next stop on our food tour is Medaglio d'Oro--my apartment complex. I won't be talking about the food inside my apartment, because it's not exactly the best and consists mainly of canned beans and corn. What is good around the Medag is the pizza place and the bakery downstairs. This is mainly due to the fact that the bakery man is as hot as his freshly baked pastries and the pizza man is as saucy as his pies. That was horrible, I should really stop making ridiculous similes. Anyway, they are both very attractive and to top it off, their food is excellent as well, not that I wouldn't buy it anyway.
I think I've mentioned Tony's coffee in a previous post, but it's worth mentioning again. There is a cafe right in the middle of the walk between Medag and JCU, so it serves as the perfect pick-me-up. The man who works there is Tony--he is old and very smiley. It seems that his one goal in life is to make delicious coffee concoctions. He LOVES making coffee. He also loves winking, snorting when he laughs, and waving at people who walk by the cafe. There are two older women who also work at the cafe. Tony is the only one who wears a name tag and smiles. My assumption is that these women are Tony's sisters and they abuse him, both verbally and physically, which is very sad, but also explains why Tony is ALWAYS at the cafe. This is probably not true, as Tony is always extremely happy. Caitlin and I go to Tony's every Monday and Wednesday and he has learned our names (except for the one time he called me Mila and Caitlin Kristina). He writes "ok" in our cappuccinos and says, "OK! Because you're ok!" Then he winks a few times (he may have an eye twitch) and talks to us about the weather. I don't think he realizes that we speak Italian, because whenever he tries to hold a conversation with us, he uses ridiculous hand gestures that probably wouldn't even help if we didn't know Italian. Oh, Tony. Such a goof ball. And he really does make the best cappuccino I have had hear, probably because it's made with love.
At JCU, the food hangout is Aristocampo. If you are ever in Rome and need a quick bite to eat but don't want to sacrifice quality, go here. It is inexpensive, delicious, and made right in front of you. Most days, students get their sandwiches, then take them back to the Lemonless Tree Courtyard to sit with their friends and eat them. Then this awkward and unnecessary conversation occurs:
"Oh...you've got a sandwich."
"Yup."
"Is that from Aristocampo?"
"Yup."
"What did you get, the Garibaldi?"
"No, this is, umm, I think I got the Trastevere."
"Oh, yeah, that's a good one."
"Yeah, so far it's pretty tasty."
"What does that have on it?"
"Umm, pork I think, and umm, eggplant and pink sauce."
"What IS pink sauce?"
"I dunno, it's like mayonnaise, but not."
"Yeah, but what exactly is it? It's so good, I just want to know what's IN IT."
"Yeah, pink sauce is weird. Don't know what it is."
"Well, it looks like a good sandwich. Did they give you the JCU discount?"
This goes on FOREVER and happens EVERY DAY. People really need to stop asking the pink sauce question. No one knows what pink sauce is and no one ever will. It is something we must live with and stop questioning.
One of the things Italy is best known for is its pizza. I was arguing with Alex the other night about what was better--Hungry Howie's or Italian pizza. He, of course, holds that Hungry Howie's is the best pizza ever, which makes sense since he gets it at least 3 times a week, but since I have had both Italian pizza and Hungry Howie's, I think I can give a more accurate opinion. Italian pizza is certainly better than Hungry Howie's. It's really thin and always freshly made. One of the best placess is Buffetto (Mustache) near Piazza Navona. There is always a line, but its worth it to get pizza with every topping, including a sunny-side-up egg. The staff is really gruff and will do the minimum to get you your pizza and might even make fun of you, but its all part of the experience.
For dessert in Italy, I've already mentioned gelato, which is my favorite, but there are also pastries. Honestly, pastires in Italy are not that good. They just don't get cookies. The pastries here are flaky and hard instead of soft and light. It's a little disappointing, but at least there's gelato.
Lastly, I shall discuss Diet Coke. Coke actually tastes different here. Coke has a different recipe for different countries, based on the culture's tastes. The Coke here is actually much better (I think it's a little sweeter). Diet Coke is the drink of choice at JCU, perhaps because the caffeine is needed to get you through the day of going to the worst university ever. It's a bad scene if someone can't get his/her Diet Coke. There is much wailing and nashing of teeth, until the student realizes that any nearby cafe will also sell Diet Coke. The JCU student can best be described as complacently depressed about his/her university experience, Diet Coke in one hand, Aristocampo sandwich with pink sauce in the other, wearing skinny jeans and a JCU t-shirt, standing in the Lemonless Tree Courtyard, second-hand smoking while dodging stray ping pong balls from the nearby table, waiting for a computer to open up in the computer lab so he/she can just print that stupid paper he/she wrote about an hour ago. That's JCU. Thankfully, the food in Italy makes up for the lack of educational value.
First, I shall describe the gelato. Gelato is the best thing in the world, and, dare I say it, even better than Handels ice cream. It's creamy, colorful, and delicious, especially at Old Bridge. Old Bridge is located right outside the Vatican Walls and frequented by the ND kids several times a week. What makes Old Bridge so good? Allow me to express this in a poem
Ode to Old Bridge
Oh, dearest Old Bridge
You're gelato is the best
Baccio, Fragola, Crema
All the flavors have some zest
You're staff, young and fun
Wear silly white hats
The flavors, creamy and bright
And numerous as Rome's cats
Right outside the Vatican
Your price cannot be beat
Una copetta di uno e cinquanta!
Now that is a great feat
Oh, dearest Old Bridge
Your loveliness I will miss
There's nothing like it in the states
But I can always wish...
So basically, the gelato is really good.
Next stop on our food tour is Medaglio d'Oro--my apartment complex. I won't be talking about the food inside my apartment, because it's not exactly the best and consists mainly of canned beans and corn. What is good around the Medag is the pizza place and the bakery downstairs. This is mainly due to the fact that the bakery man is as hot as his freshly baked pastries and the pizza man is as saucy as his pies. That was horrible, I should really stop making ridiculous similes. Anyway, they are both very attractive and to top it off, their food is excellent as well, not that I wouldn't buy it anyway.
I think I've mentioned Tony's coffee in a previous post, but it's worth mentioning again. There is a cafe right in the middle of the walk between Medag and JCU, so it serves as the perfect pick-me-up. The man who works there is Tony--he is old and very smiley. It seems that his one goal in life is to make delicious coffee concoctions. He LOVES making coffee. He also loves winking, snorting when he laughs, and waving at people who walk by the cafe. There are two older women who also work at the cafe. Tony is the only one who wears a name tag and smiles. My assumption is that these women are Tony's sisters and they abuse him, both verbally and physically, which is very sad, but also explains why Tony is ALWAYS at the cafe. This is probably not true, as Tony is always extremely happy. Caitlin and I go to Tony's every Monday and Wednesday and he has learned our names (except for the one time he called me Mila and Caitlin Kristina). He writes "ok" in our cappuccinos and says, "OK! Because you're ok!" Then he winks a few times (he may have an eye twitch) and talks to us about the weather. I don't think he realizes that we speak Italian, because whenever he tries to hold a conversation with us, he uses ridiculous hand gestures that probably wouldn't even help if we didn't know Italian. Oh, Tony. Such a goof ball. And he really does make the best cappuccino I have had hear, probably because it's made with love.
At JCU, the food hangout is Aristocampo. If you are ever in Rome and need a quick bite to eat but don't want to sacrifice quality, go here. It is inexpensive, delicious, and made right in front of you. Most days, students get their sandwiches, then take them back to the Lemonless Tree Courtyard to sit with their friends and eat them. Then this awkward and unnecessary conversation occurs:
"Oh...you've got a sandwich."
"Yup."
"Is that from Aristocampo?"
"Yup."
"What did you get, the Garibaldi?"
"No, this is, umm, I think I got the Trastevere."
"Oh, yeah, that's a good one."
"Yeah, so far it's pretty tasty."
"What does that have on it?"
"Umm, pork I think, and umm, eggplant and pink sauce."
"What IS pink sauce?"
"I dunno, it's like mayonnaise, but not."
"Yeah, but what exactly is it? It's so good, I just want to know what's IN IT."
"Yeah, pink sauce is weird. Don't know what it is."
"Well, it looks like a good sandwich. Did they give you the JCU discount?"
This goes on FOREVER and happens EVERY DAY. People really need to stop asking the pink sauce question. No one knows what pink sauce is and no one ever will. It is something we must live with and stop questioning.
One of the things Italy is best known for is its pizza. I was arguing with Alex the other night about what was better--Hungry Howie's or Italian pizza. He, of course, holds that Hungry Howie's is the best pizza ever, which makes sense since he gets it at least 3 times a week, but since I have had both Italian pizza and Hungry Howie's, I think I can give a more accurate opinion. Italian pizza is certainly better than Hungry Howie's. It's really thin and always freshly made. One of the best placess is Buffetto (Mustache) near Piazza Navona. There is always a line, but its worth it to get pizza with every topping, including a sunny-side-up egg. The staff is really gruff and will do the minimum to get you your pizza and might even make fun of you, but its all part of the experience.
For dessert in Italy, I've already mentioned gelato, which is my favorite, but there are also pastries. Honestly, pastires in Italy are not that good. They just don't get cookies. The pastries here are flaky and hard instead of soft and light. It's a little disappointing, but at least there's gelato.
Lastly, I shall discuss Diet Coke. Coke actually tastes different here. Coke has a different recipe for different countries, based on the culture's tastes. The Coke here is actually much better (I think it's a little sweeter). Diet Coke is the drink of choice at JCU, perhaps because the caffeine is needed to get you through the day of going to the worst university ever. It's a bad scene if someone can't get his/her Diet Coke. There is much wailing and nashing of teeth, until the student realizes that any nearby cafe will also sell Diet Coke. The JCU student can best be described as complacently depressed about his/her university experience, Diet Coke in one hand, Aristocampo sandwich with pink sauce in the other, wearing skinny jeans and a JCU t-shirt, standing in the Lemonless Tree Courtyard, second-hand smoking while dodging stray ping pong balls from the nearby table, waiting for a computer to open up in the computer lab so he/she can just print that stupid paper he/she wrote about an hour ago. That's JCU. Thankfully, the food in Italy makes up for the lack of educational value.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
The Land of Lederhosen
It is raining in the lemon tree courtyard. Since there are no other non-classroom spaces at the lovely local of JCU, the weather has forced everyone inside to the computer labs or the vending machine room. I chilled out in the vending machine room for a while, eating my poorly planned lunch of canned tuna and crackers (I say poorly planned because the crackers got all smooshed and the tuna had to be drained of its oil, so I had to get a really gross tea from the vending machine and chug it so I had something to drain my tuna oil in). That got boring, so here I am, in the computer lab. The lemon tree courtyard did recently get tents for sitting underneath. I guess these are supposed to provide warmth and shelter, but they are really just smoke houses since the Italians and Fauxtalians just sit under them and smoke, with no where for carcinogens to escape. Love thee, JCU. At least the rain gives me the perfect opportunity to tell you about Munich.
First, some background info. I'm German (I'm also Italian, but you should have assumed that by now). I'm so German that I call my grandma "Oma", holidays always involve spaetzle (noodles), and I wore a durndel for my first few Christmases. My dad's maternal grandparents were from Munich, Germany. I suspect they were pretty cool since they owned some nightclubs. World War II happened, and the Fleischmans ended up in Canton, Ohio. That is probably more information than you ever wanted to know about my family. If you skipped that paragraph, I understand. One more tidbit...there is a statue of King Maximilian II in Munich. The artist's original small-scale model for this statue sits in my Oma's house. My goal for Munich was to find this statue. Now for tales from Deutchland. (Disclaimer: I will probably spell every German word incorrectly)
I'm getting a great sampling of European airlines, as every trip I take, I use a different one. This time, it was Condor, and it is my favorite. It shows you a cute little Sim-looking video about safety instructions. It involves a man, woman, and child. It's a thrilling movie, with drama (the masks have dropped! what now?!), suspense (how will he inflate the lifevest?), and romance (once the woman slides down the emergency exit slide, she rushes into the arms of the animated man and they share a passionate kiss after their death-defying experience). Condor also has a camera attached the front of the plane to let you see what's going on or maybe so you can see what it would be like to be an airplane yourself. I'm not sure how I feel about the cameras, considering if the plane were heading into anything bad, I don't think I'd want to see the impending doom. The best part about Condor were the muffins. Most budget European airlines do not give you food, but Condor rolled out the red carpet with complimentary muffins and beverages. Eventually we got off the plane and I had real, important experiences that are actually worth telling.
We got into Munich pretty late, so we went straight to our hostel. We stayed at the Wombat again (same hostel chain we had stayed at in Vienna). Wombat is an excellent hostel--very clean and helpful. The best part of this particular Wombat, however, was the pass-out room. It was technically called a lounge, but every time I walked in there, there were people laying all over the place--passed out on padded floor, sleeping on the technicolor couch, draped across a hammock. This scene could be found at any time of day or night.
Since it was so late, the only thing we did that night was get kebabs, now a traveling tradition. While at the Kebab place, I met a guy from Frankfurt. He was pretty cool and spoke perfect English, which is excellent since I speak not one single word of German (despite my aforementioned German heritage). I thought he was around my age, but it turns out he was 28. This happens a lot, because the people who always seem at my level of education/life are always quite a few years older than me, probably because European school lasts longer, but it still throws me off.
We were staying in a 6 person room, but there were only 5 of us in that particular room (9 total people in the ND group). When we went to bed, we didn't have a 6th roommate. When we woke up, there was a really old guy sleeping in the bunk under Caitlin! Ahh! When we started to wake up and get our stuff together, he silently got out of bed and left. It wasn't not a pleasant thing to wake up to, but that's what you'll get in hostels, even in the Wombat.
Our first day in Munich was spent at Neuschwantein Castle, the castle that Disney modeled its Cinderella castle off of. It was a two hour train ride to Fussen, where we could get a bus to the castle. The train ride was actually pretty awesome, because it let us see the German countryside. It was especially cool because it was snowing and made everything look like a Christmas village or a scenic painting. We killed some time in Fussen while waiting for our bus to get there. It was a cute little town with a big shop filled with traditional German clothing. I guess people actually wear that still. I picture big German proms where everyone wears lederhosen and durndels.
After the bus, we took a cozy horse-drawn carriage to the front of the castle. I say cozy because they fit as many people as they could into the carriage, so it was a little cramped, but still so cool to ride to a castle in a carriage. The castle itself is absolutely gorgeous. It's massive, but set against the even more massive Alps. This, plus all the snow, made for a really beautiful setting. We got our pictures outside the castle then went inside to thaw out. The castle was never actually lived in because King Ludwig died right before it was finished, so only a few rooms inside are actually decorated. However, if those few rooms are an indication of what the completed castle interior would have looked like, it was set to be one incredible castle. Mosaics and jewels and lavish decor are everywhere. The best part is the cave room. It is literally a room made to look like the inside of a cave. Mad King Ludwig indeed!
We caught the train back to Munich just in time to get back to the city for dinner. We went to the Hofbrauhaus, Munich's famous beer hall. Picture what you would expect a German beer house to look like, including all ridiculousness and stereotypes. That is exactly what this was. We walked in and it was loud and bright and crowded. There were men walking around in lederhosen with big steins of beer and women in durndels with baskets of pretzels. A band dressed in traditional German attire played brass instruments and waiters carried around platefuls of sausages. No one seats you, you just have to find a table. This was a chore and after a half hour, we finally found somewhere to sit. We all enjoyed potatoes, sauerkraut, bratwurst, and beer--pretty much the opposite of Italian cuisine. The theme of the Hofbrauhaus was definitely eat, drink, and be merry.
The next day, we took a train to Dachau concentration camp. It was a very interesting place and a chilling experience (both literally and figuratively, due to the snow and wind). We each got audio guides and went our own ways. There's not much else I can say about it, but I would recommend seeing it.
For lunch, we went to a Mexican restaurant. Before you judge us about not sticking with the culture we were visiting, we had gotten recommendations for this Mexican restaurant from lots of people and guide books. Plus, we were kind of sick of sausages. It was excellent Mexican food.
The rest of the afternoon was spent shopping. Germany has a lot more department stores than Italy, and a lot bigger sizes. The people are a swarthy breed, and who can blame them when there is nothing but yellow and brown colored food to eat. Aside from the departments stores are a lot of souvenir shops, most selling Christmas ornaments. The ornaments were really pretty and oddly familiar. There were a few types of decorations I had seen at my Oma's house, but had never known they were German, but there they were in every souvenir shop. There were also a lot of chains like Starbucks, H&M, and Forever 18 (I guess 18 is better than 21 in Europe).
For dinner, we went to another, quieter beer hall called the Augusteiner. The waiter was very forward. We sat down and he said, "You will all have the house beer. It is the best." and left before we could protest. When Colleen asked for a water, he said, "You know, water is expensive. Are you sure you want it?" In fact, beer is the cheapest thing on the menu and water is more expensive. Strange. Later, the waiter put a basket of pretzels on our table and said, "These aren't free, you know." He was kind of crazy, but it was a fun place.
On Sunday, not much was open, so some of us went on the free walking tour provided by the hostel. It was raining and cold--not the best conditions for walking around Munich--but it was a really good tour. We saw the city center with the Glockenspiel that had little dancing puppet things. Another stop was the devil's church. The devil's church has a weird legend surrounding it. Apparently, the devil helped build it, on the condition that it would have no windows because he thought that no windows would lead to no one going into the church. Well, the devil's plan didn't work out because people still went in to the church (I think to avoid the cold weather in Munich). He rode in on wind, went into the church, stomped on the floor, leaving a footprint, then ran off in a fury, leaving his wind. That is why there is a dent in the floor and a lot of wind in the area. The stories people make up to explain normal things...
Near the church, there is a miniature model of the city of Munich. According to the tour guide, this is for the blind because it is written in "the language of the blind." So, I guess blind people like Munich.
It was nearing the end of our time in Munich and I still hadn't found the family famed Max statue. I asked my tour guide where this statue might be. He claimed it didn't exist, but after some further explanation (I had to specify that it was a statue of Maximilian II, not I) he pointed me in the "right" direction. I ended up wandering around for a while, never stumbling upon the statue that would fulfill my quest. It was a sad moment, but I had to get back to the hostel. I started out pretty confident in where I was going, but eventually got lost and ended up at the Hofbrauhaus wondering where the metro was. An older German man said something in German to me, then noticing my perplexed deer in lights gaze I give whenever anyone says something in a foregin language to me, he repeated in English, "Were you just in the Hofbrauhaus?". I said I wasn't then he proceeded to talk my ear of about whatever popped into his German mind. He was very nice and very chatty, so I asked him to lead me to the subway station. On the way there, he asked me where I was from. I said Ohio and got the usual blank stare so I said, "It's kind of close to Chicago." His face lit up and he said, "Chicago! How wonderful! I would like to live in Colorado because I like to ski! Or maybe Texas!" This man obviously had ADD. We got to the metro and after the subtly snide remark that Europeans usually give me about President Bush, he shook my hand, said something in Italian, and walked away. Nice, but obviously crazy.
Munich was an excellent place and one of my favorite cities I've been to during this semester. However, I will be very glad to be in Rome this weekend. I need to focus a bit on this thing called school they're making me do here...
First, some background info. I'm German (I'm also Italian, but you should have assumed that by now). I'm so German that I call my grandma "Oma", holidays always involve spaetzle (noodles), and I wore a durndel for my first few Christmases. My dad's maternal grandparents were from Munich, Germany. I suspect they were pretty cool since they owned some nightclubs. World War II happened, and the Fleischmans ended up in Canton, Ohio. That is probably more information than you ever wanted to know about my family. If you skipped that paragraph, I understand. One more tidbit...there is a statue of King Maximilian II in Munich. The artist's original small-scale model for this statue sits in my Oma's house. My goal for Munich was to find this statue. Now for tales from Deutchland. (Disclaimer: I will probably spell every German word incorrectly)
I'm getting a great sampling of European airlines, as every trip I take, I use a different one. This time, it was Condor, and it is my favorite. It shows you a cute little Sim-looking video about safety instructions. It involves a man, woman, and child. It's a thrilling movie, with drama (the masks have dropped! what now?!), suspense (how will he inflate the lifevest?), and romance (once the woman slides down the emergency exit slide, she rushes into the arms of the animated man and they share a passionate kiss after their death-defying experience). Condor also has a camera attached the front of the plane to let you see what's going on or maybe so you can see what it would be like to be an airplane yourself. I'm not sure how I feel about the cameras, considering if the plane were heading into anything bad, I don't think I'd want to see the impending doom. The best part about Condor were the muffins. Most budget European airlines do not give you food, but Condor rolled out the red carpet with complimentary muffins and beverages. Eventually we got off the plane and I had real, important experiences that are actually worth telling.
We got into Munich pretty late, so we went straight to our hostel. We stayed at the Wombat again (same hostel chain we had stayed at in Vienna). Wombat is an excellent hostel--very clean and helpful. The best part of this particular Wombat, however, was the pass-out room. It was technically called a lounge, but every time I walked in there, there were people laying all over the place--passed out on padded floor, sleeping on the technicolor couch, draped across a hammock. This scene could be found at any time of day or night.
Since it was so late, the only thing we did that night was get kebabs, now a traveling tradition. While at the Kebab place, I met a guy from Frankfurt. He was pretty cool and spoke perfect English, which is excellent since I speak not one single word of German (despite my aforementioned German heritage). I thought he was around my age, but it turns out he was 28. This happens a lot, because the people who always seem at my level of education/life are always quite a few years older than me, probably because European school lasts longer, but it still throws me off.
We were staying in a 6 person room, but there were only 5 of us in that particular room (9 total people in the ND group). When we went to bed, we didn't have a 6th roommate. When we woke up, there was a really old guy sleeping in the bunk under Caitlin! Ahh! When we started to wake up and get our stuff together, he silently got out of bed and left. It wasn't not a pleasant thing to wake up to, but that's what you'll get in hostels, even in the Wombat.
Our first day in Munich was spent at Neuschwantein Castle, the castle that Disney modeled its Cinderella castle off of. It was a two hour train ride to Fussen, where we could get a bus to the castle. The train ride was actually pretty awesome, because it let us see the German countryside. It was especially cool because it was snowing and made everything look like a Christmas village or a scenic painting. We killed some time in Fussen while waiting for our bus to get there. It was a cute little town with a big shop filled with traditional German clothing. I guess people actually wear that still. I picture big German proms where everyone wears lederhosen and durndels.
After the bus, we took a cozy horse-drawn carriage to the front of the castle. I say cozy because they fit as many people as they could into the carriage, so it was a little cramped, but still so cool to ride to a castle in a carriage. The castle itself is absolutely gorgeous. It's massive, but set against the even more massive Alps. This, plus all the snow, made for a really beautiful setting. We got our pictures outside the castle then went inside to thaw out. The castle was never actually lived in because King Ludwig died right before it was finished, so only a few rooms inside are actually decorated. However, if those few rooms are an indication of what the completed castle interior would have looked like, it was set to be one incredible castle. Mosaics and jewels and lavish decor are everywhere. The best part is the cave room. It is literally a room made to look like the inside of a cave. Mad King Ludwig indeed!
We caught the train back to Munich just in time to get back to the city for dinner. We went to the Hofbrauhaus, Munich's famous beer hall. Picture what you would expect a German beer house to look like, including all ridiculousness and stereotypes. That is exactly what this was. We walked in and it was loud and bright and crowded. There were men walking around in lederhosen with big steins of beer and women in durndels with baskets of pretzels. A band dressed in traditional German attire played brass instruments and waiters carried around platefuls of sausages. No one seats you, you just have to find a table. This was a chore and after a half hour, we finally found somewhere to sit. We all enjoyed potatoes, sauerkraut, bratwurst, and beer--pretty much the opposite of Italian cuisine. The theme of the Hofbrauhaus was definitely eat, drink, and be merry.
The next day, we took a train to Dachau concentration camp. It was a very interesting place and a chilling experience (both literally and figuratively, due to the snow and wind). We each got audio guides and went our own ways. There's not much else I can say about it, but I would recommend seeing it.
For lunch, we went to a Mexican restaurant. Before you judge us about not sticking with the culture we were visiting, we had gotten recommendations for this Mexican restaurant from lots of people and guide books. Plus, we were kind of sick of sausages. It was excellent Mexican food.
The rest of the afternoon was spent shopping. Germany has a lot more department stores than Italy, and a lot bigger sizes. The people are a swarthy breed, and who can blame them when there is nothing but yellow and brown colored food to eat. Aside from the departments stores are a lot of souvenir shops, most selling Christmas ornaments. The ornaments were really pretty and oddly familiar. There were a few types of decorations I had seen at my Oma's house, but had never known they were German, but there they were in every souvenir shop. There were also a lot of chains like Starbucks, H&M, and Forever 18 (I guess 18 is better than 21 in Europe).
For dinner, we went to another, quieter beer hall called the Augusteiner. The waiter was very forward. We sat down and he said, "You will all have the house beer. It is the best." and left before we could protest. When Colleen asked for a water, he said, "You know, water is expensive. Are you sure you want it?" In fact, beer is the cheapest thing on the menu and water is more expensive. Strange. Later, the waiter put a basket of pretzels on our table and said, "These aren't free, you know." He was kind of crazy, but it was a fun place.
On Sunday, not much was open, so some of us went on the free walking tour provided by the hostel. It was raining and cold--not the best conditions for walking around Munich--but it was a really good tour. We saw the city center with the Glockenspiel that had little dancing puppet things. Another stop was the devil's church. The devil's church has a weird legend surrounding it. Apparently, the devil helped build it, on the condition that it would have no windows because he thought that no windows would lead to no one going into the church. Well, the devil's plan didn't work out because people still went in to the church (I think to avoid the cold weather in Munich). He rode in on wind, went into the church, stomped on the floor, leaving a footprint, then ran off in a fury, leaving his wind. That is why there is a dent in the floor and a lot of wind in the area. The stories people make up to explain normal things...
Near the church, there is a miniature model of the city of Munich. According to the tour guide, this is for the blind because it is written in "the language of the blind." So, I guess blind people like Munich.
It was nearing the end of our time in Munich and I still hadn't found the family famed Max statue. I asked my tour guide where this statue might be. He claimed it didn't exist, but after some further explanation (I had to specify that it was a statue of Maximilian II, not I) he pointed me in the "right" direction. I ended up wandering around for a while, never stumbling upon the statue that would fulfill my quest. It was a sad moment, but I had to get back to the hostel. I started out pretty confident in where I was going, but eventually got lost and ended up at the Hofbrauhaus wondering where the metro was. An older German man said something in German to me, then noticing my perplexed deer in lights gaze I give whenever anyone says something in a foregin language to me, he repeated in English, "Were you just in the Hofbrauhaus?". I said I wasn't then he proceeded to talk my ear of about whatever popped into his German mind. He was very nice and very chatty, so I asked him to lead me to the subway station. On the way there, he asked me where I was from. I said Ohio and got the usual blank stare so I said, "It's kind of close to Chicago." His face lit up and he said, "Chicago! How wonderful! I would like to live in Colorado because I like to ski! Or maybe Texas!" This man obviously had ADD. We got to the metro and after the subtly snide remark that Europeans usually give me about President Bush, he shook my hand, said something in Italian, and walked away. Nice, but obviously crazy.
Munich was an excellent place and one of my favorite cities I've been to during this semester. However, I will be very glad to be in Rome this weekend. I need to focus a bit on this thing called school they're making me do here...
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Central Euro Trip!
Here's my sob story: The other night, while listening to Elton John and typing up some notes for class, my computer died. Seriously. It went black, won't turn on anymore, kaput, dead, finished, basta. I have since found out that this is because my motherboard crashed which is good because that means I should be able to salvage all my information from the hard drive but is bad because the cost of a new motherboard is comparable to that of a new computer. Thusly, I am computerless for the rest of the semester, which is really fantastic considering I have several papers due in the coming weeks and JCU computer lab is an hour walk away from my apartment. Looks like I'll be spending my remaining days in Rome staring out on the lemon tree courtyard and typing away on an accent-filled keyboard. I brought my computer to the JCU IT office (only open 2 hours out of the day) and they said they could only take it to a shop and get an estimate on the cost of fixing it. A few days later, I went back to the office to check up on my laptop and it was sitting in the exact same spot on the guy's desk where I had left it. When I inquired about this, the guy said, "The shop will come to pick it up sometime this week probably then a week after that I should know something." My guess is that JCU will be holding my computer hostage until I leave Rome.
Before I get into my long description of my long trip, let me just mention the soup kitchen I volunteered at. Just mentioning that I volunteered at a soup kitchen make shock some of you reading this, as I'm not really the community service type (i.e. good person), but I decided to give it a shot. It's fine and a good way to practice Italian, but today while volunteering, one of the women working there mistook me for one of the homeless! I repeat, she thought I was homeless! I was wearing Gap jeans and a blazer! Granted, one of the homeless Italian men was wearing a suit, but really! Caitlin, however, got called the most beautiful woman in the world and met a man who saved the world during the Cold War and is now on the run from the CIA. Good times.
Ok, so, sit back, relax, this is going to be long. On Halloween, I and 10 other people left for Prague in the Czech Republic. Caitlin and I were some of the last people to check in at the Rome airport, and the guy at the desk said, "Is there a gathering of Americans with backpacks in Prague?" Yep, it looked like we were headed for the annual American backpack convention." The flight itself was fine and from our windows we could see a very Halloweeny red moon. We had a layover in Bratislava. We could have had a direct flight, but Bratislava sounded cool. It wasn't really, since we ended up just chilling in the airport and buying lots of candy to celebrate the holiday, but at least now we can say that we've been there. We got into Prague late in the evening and went directly to the ATM to get some crowns/krowns? whatever Czech currency. Everyone's money is so much pretty than America's and the Czech money was especially artsy with lots of portraits and colors. It was also pretty worthless, considering 100 crowns is about 5 U.S. dollars. This was part of the draw of Prague.
The hostel we stayed in was called Emma Hostel. This was chosen mainly because one of the travelers in the group is named Emma and she is very nice, so I figured this hostel would be nice. It was, except for the lack of sheets, but all we really needed was the sketchy comforter. The bathroom was a little strange as well, since there were always naked European women in it (ew ew ew) but this is something that I'm sure is not exclusive to this hostel. We were given free breakfast, but chose to eat elsewhere, since breakfast at the hostel was just 5 pieces of bread and an ancient piece of bruised fruit. But yeah, the hostel was great!
The first morning in Prague, we took the metro to a stop near the castle (one of the biggest in Europe) and had breakfast. I ordered pancakes, which turned out to be crepes, and the CZECH MEAT PLATE. I put it in all caps because it was a lot of meat and when I ordered it the waitress looked at me like I was a crazy meat fiend who might try and eat her after I finished my order. I informed her that I would be splitting the meat plate among 4 people, but I don't think she believed me. It was delicious, as were the faux-pancakes.
After breakfast we headed over to the castle. It wasn't that cool or castley. It was kind of hard to take in because it was so huge and Rick Steves said it wasn't worth touring, so we just did a few things. We went to the cathedral, which was so cool and full of stained glass. It was a sunny day, so that made the inside even more spectacular. We climbed up the tower to the top and had a great view of Prague.
The rest of the day we just kind of walked around and explored. We saw the Charles bridge, which goes over the main river of Prague and went to Wenceslaus Square. We walked through Old Town, which has this really famous astronomical clock that was supposed to do something really spectacular when it chimed on the hour. Everyone lined up in front of the tower, cameras ready, and when the hour changed, 12 little apostles peeked out through a window and then a bell rang and it was over. Really anticlimactic. I guess I was expecting pyrotechnics or something, but it was cute anyway Later, we stopped by the Jewish quarter, but were too late to go in anything except some souvenir shops. The people at these shops were so pushy and annoying and kept asking me where I was from. Since no one knows Ohio, I usually just say Chicago or New York or if I'm feeling really adventurous, California. One souvenir salesmen was especially obnoxious and kept offering marriage and his soul to the girls in our group. When all the girls had successfully avoided him and gone away, he said to Dan (one of the boys of the group), "What is wrong with those girls? Are they virgins?" Not really knowing how to answer this, Dan simply said, "Yeah" and proceeded to hear about the sexual history of souvenir man. He also warned Dan that he'd better get a girlfriend soon because in 10 short year, he would have nothing! None of this enticed any of us to buy souvenirs.
That night we had some great Thai food. Prague doesn't really have its own special food (except pig knuckles and grog) but it does pretty well with other people's food. Later that night, we went to a 5 story dance club, each floor having its own theme (for example, rap on floor 4 and 60s pop on floor 3). It was a good time involving a lot of awkward dancing and conversations with Europeans in broken English. It was also an amazing accomplishment because all 11 of us stayed together the entire time. Go team!
The following morning, we had a fantastic, though a bit American, breakfast of coffee and bagels. We went to the Jewish quarter to see some synagogues and a really old cemetery, which was pretty neat. It was a pretty chill day of just taking in the city.
Prague itself is kind of hard to define. It was very strange to be in a place where I did not know the language at all, but most people spoke English. The city was nothing like Rome or that type of Europe, but it had colorful buildings and different architecture. It was very cool and I definitely liked it, but it is really hard to describe and define its character. This could be because I was only there for 2 days. The Czech language is kind of confusing and from what I can tell, it involves taking English words and adding a "y" to the end. I saw words such as "miniatury", "bagely", synagogy", "republicky", and "dezerty"
We had all planned to meet at the hostel at 4:00 for our 7:00 flight, but once we got to the hostel and got out our confirmation emails, we realized the time of the flight was NOT 7:00, but 17:00. Military time is so very tricky. After a couple seconds of frantic scrambling, it became apparent that we would not make our flight, so we rushed off to the train station and thankfully caught the next train to Vienna. The train ride was only 5 hours and not that expensive, so it wasn't that bad. Actually, that is probably the smoothest a missed flight has ever gone in the history of missed traveling. We got into Vienna and crashed at Wombat hostel (that's right, Wombat). Wombat has a chain of hostels across Europe and it is pretty hip and very clean. In the hostel is a WomBar, which I unfortunately never checked out, but the high bass music and fun looking arrows pointing to it did look enticing.
Our first day in Vienna was spent at the Hofburg Palace. After another great breakfast at Cafe Hawelka (recommended by my dad via the Travel Channel--he recorded the program on Vienna and held the phone up while I listened) we headed on to the Spanish Riding School to fulfill a lifelong dream of mine--seeing the dance of the Lipizzaner horses. My official story for loving these horses is because I owned horses and use to ride blahblahblah but the real reason is because of the Angry Beavers. That's right, a Nickelodeon cartoon inspired me to go to Vienna to see the prancing Lipizzaners. To really go into the explanation would take too much time, and you would really just need to see that specific episode, so I will refrain. In any case, I was the most excited out of the group and was probably considered the crazy horse girl for dragging everyone to morning exercises at the Spanish Riding School first thing in the morning, but it was worth it.
Our next stop in the palace was the Imperial apartments, the Sisi museum, and a bunch of rooms full of royal dinnerware. There were a ton of plates and really food-specific dishes (example, asparagus holder and duck squeezer). The Sisi museum was super cool and was all about the legend of Princess Elizabeth of Austria. The Imperial Apartments were so extravagant and made me want to be a royal. It was all very cool and enjoyable and not Renaissance art, which is always a plus in my book. After the palace, we walked outside and found a park with autumn leaves. This was a big deal, since Rome doesn't really have any parks or trees, so we hadn't seen any signs of fall. As soon as we came upon a pile of leaves, we all degenerated into 5 year olds and had a leaf fight right in front of the Hofburg Palace. Once we picked the leaves out of our hair, we headed onto the Belvedere gardens, but not before stopping at a Wurstelstand to get some bratwurst. It was filled with cheese and so very good!
We spent a lot of time in the Belvedere gardens because they were really big and very pretty. While strolling through the botanical gardens, we spotted a woman standing very still between some trees. She was in a very awkward pose, but upon further investigation, this was not the strangest thing about her. She had a tail. She was cat woman. We walked a bit closer and (thankfully) discovered a film crew and a shirtless meatloaf-esque large man with really long hair. The hairy man kept chasing cat woman around and I have no idea why. Weird, weird, Austrians.
Austria is a very classy place and maintains its classical background despite its modern look. Mozart is everywhere and street performers play the piano (don't know how they get it onto the street). To stay in line with this classiness, we decided to go to the opera. We waited in line for an hour and a half for £2 standing tickets, got some cake and coffee at the Mozart cafe, then went to the opera. Outfitted in our NorthFace jackets and travel-worn jeans, clutching to our cheap tickets, we looked like uber-peasants. Everyone else was dressed very nicely and the opera house was quite fancy. We went to our standing area to claim our spots among the other peasants, but could find no good vantage point, so this was mostly a listening experience. The opera was Tosca and it was indeed incredible to hear. There were little computer screens that gave translations in various languages, which was pretty cool. We stayed for the first act and then left.
After that classy event, we went to the most Euro trash carnival in the world! We meant to ride this really old ferris wheel, but it was closed, so we stumbled upon this weird, random carnival with a couple rides and a casino. It was all lit up, but almost completely empty. It was a very strange atmosphere and it felt like something straight out of the setup of a bad horror flick. We rode the new, neon ferris wheel, which went right along with our theme of acting like children in Vienna. Once our enjoyment settled into creeped out, we headed back to the hostel and had dinner at a cafe nearby. A few of us ordered bread dumplings to go with our soup, expecting something gnocchi-like or perhaps some actual slices of bread. Instead, we got a giant doughy lump of bread with parsley sprinkled on top. Why anyone would actually intend to order this, I have no idea. It was literally, just a ball of bread!
The next morning we went to another famous cafe--Cafe Demel--which used to serve cake to the royals. The streudel was excellent and went very well with the Starbucks latte I purchased. That's right. Starbucks. The inside of the Starbucks looked exactly like every Starbucks I have ever been in, which was a little surreal, since we were in Vienna. It was a little comforting, though, being instantly transported to America.
On Sunday in Vienna, everything is closed. Well, I guess restaurants and museums are open, but I was really hoping to shop, and every single shop was closed. So instead, we went to the Stephensplatz cathedral, which was ok, but kind of unimpressive. I guess at this point I am just spoiled by Roman churches.
We headed over to the Museum quarter to check out what it had to offer, but none of them really appealed to me, so Dan and I headed off to explore Vienna. We went to the University of Vienna and sneaked inside. It was pretty basic and boring, just a school, but still neat to see another university. Afterwards, we just walked along the Danube. It was a very scenic area with sweet fall foliage. Vienna itself is a very cool city and I liked it a lot.
Before leaving Vienna, I found a souvenir shop (one of the only things open) and bought a winter hat and a pocket watch. The pocket watch doesn't really keep time and has an elk on the front of it. For some reason, I thought a pocket watch would be the perfect souvenir from Vienna, especially since I was heading on a train. I was very correct.
On the tram ride to the train station, a New Yorker noticed my new hat and asked if I was in Vienna to ski (stupid misleading hat) and then decided to strike up a conversation with me. In theory, talking to a fellow American should have been pleasant, but you are forgetting that I attract crazies. I don't know how I manage to not give off a more judgmental vibe, but crazy people seem to look at me and think, "Now there's a girl who wants to hear my life story!". This New Yorker introduced himself and instantly told me about his recent divorce from his Austrian wife. He has two kids, but according to him, they are old enough and don't need him anyway, so he should just go back to New York. He also shouldn't have to pay child support since he'll have to start his life over in New York and that will be costly. Not wanting to start a ruckus on the crowded tram, I just agreed and feigned sympathy. And that is my last event in Vienna.
On the train, we had 3 compartments of 4 beds each. The beds were actually pretty nice and after a couple of hours of talking, we all fell asleep and slept most of the 13 hours back to Rome. Before we left, we had bought a ton of food, which was completely unnecessary, so in addition to our giant backpacks and bags of souvenirs, we also dragged bags of food onto the Rome metro. After 5 long days of traveling, we were quite the group of ragamuffins. The whole experience was very disorienting, because it was like a vacation, but instead of returning home at the end, we went back to Rome and, for some of us, straight to class. It was good to be back in Rome, however, because even after this much traveling, it is still my favorite city and the best place to be.
I am done writing now so you can be done reading now.
Before I get into my long description of my long trip, let me just mention the soup kitchen I volunteered at. Just mentioning that I volunteered at a soup kitchen make shock some of you reading this, as I'm not really the community service type (i.e. good person), but I decided to give it a shot. It's fine and a good way to practice Italian, but today while volunteering, one of the women working there mistook me for one of the homeless! I repeat, she thought I was homeless! I was wearing Gap jeans and a blazer! Granted, one of the homeless Italian men was wearing a suit, but really! Caitlin, however, got called the most beautiful woman in the world and met a man who saved the world during the Cold War and is now on the run from the CIA. Good times.
Ok, so, sit back, relax, this is going to be long. On Halloween, I and 10 other people left for Prague in the Czech Republic. Caitlin and I were some of the last people to check in at the Rome airport, and the guy at the desk said, "Is there a gathering of Americans with backpacks in Prague?" Yep, it looked like we were headed for the annual American backpack convention." The flight itself was fine and from our windows we could see a very Halloweeny red moon. We had a layover in Bratislava. We could have had a direct flight, but Bratislava sounded cool. It wasn't really, since we ended up just chilling in the airport and buying lots of candy to celebrate the holiday, but at least now we can say that we've been there. We got into Prague late in the evening and went directly to the ATM to get some crowns/krowns? whatever Czech currency. Everyone's money is so much pretty than America's and the Czech money was especially artsy with lots of portraits and colors. It was also pretty worthless, considering 100 crowns is about 5 U.S. dollars. This was part of the draw of Prague.
The hostel we stayed in was called Emma Hostel. This was chosen mainly because one of the travelers in the group is named Emma and she is very nice, so I figured this hostel would be nice. It was, except for the lack of sheets, but all we really needed was the sketchy comforter. The bathroom was a little strange as well, since there were always naked European women in it (ew ew ew) but this is something that I'm sure is not exclusive to this hostel. We were given free breakfast, but chose to eat elsewhere, since breakfast at the hostel was just 5 pieces of bread and an ancient piece of bruised fruit. But yeah, the hostel was great!
The first morning in Prague, we took the metro to a stop near the castle (one of the biggest in Europe) and had breakfast. I ordered pancakes, which turned out to be crepes, and the CZECH MEAT PLATE. I put it in all caps because it was a lot of meat and when I ordered it the waitress looked at me like I was a crazy meat fiend who might try and eat her after I finished my order. I informed her that I would be splitting the meat plate among 4 people, but I don't think she believed me. It was delicious, as were the faux-pancakes.
After breakfast we headed over to the castle. It wasn't that cool or castley. It was kind of hard to take in because it was so huge and Rick Steves said it wasn't worth touring, so we just did a few things. We went to the cathedral, which was so cool and full of stained glass. It was a sunny day, so that made the inside even more spectacular. We climbed up the tower to the top and had a great view of Prague.
The rest of the day we just kind of walked around and explored. We saw the Charles bridge, which goes over the main river of Prague and went to Wenceslaus Square. We walked through Old Town, which has this really famous astronomical clock that was supposed to do something really spectacular when it chimed on the hour. Everyone lined up in front of the tower, cameras ready, and when the hour changed, 12 little apostles peeked out through a window and then a bell rang and it was over. Really anticlimactic. I guess I was expecting pyrotechnics or something, but it was cute anyway Later, we stopped by the Jewish quarter, but were too late to go in anything except some souvenir shops. The people at these shops were so pushy and annoying and kept asking me where I was from. Since no one knows Ohio, I usually just say Chicago or New York or if I'm feeling really adventurous, California. One souvenir salesmen was especially obnoxious and kept offering marriage and his soul to the girls in our group. When all the girls had successfully avoided him and gone away, he said to Dan (one of the boys of the group), "What is wrong with those girls? Are they virgins?" Not really knowing how to answer this, Dan simply said, "Yeah" and proceeded to hear about the sexual history of souvenir man. He also warned Dan that he'd better get a girlfriend soon because in 10 short year, he would have nothing! None of this enticed any of us to buy souvenirs.
That night we had some great Thai food. Prague doesn't really have its own special food (except pig knuckles and grog) but it does pretty well with other people's food. Later that night, we went to a 5 story dance club, each floor having its own theme (for example, rap on floor 4 and 60s pop on floor 3). It was a good time involving a lot of awkward dancing and conversations with Europeans in broken English. It was also an amazing accomplishment because all 11 of us stayed together the entire time. Go team!
The following morning, we had a fantastic, though a bit American, breakfast of coffee and bagels. We went to the Jewish quarter to see some synagogues and a really old cemetery, which was pretty neat. It was a pretty chill day of just taking in the city.
Prague itself is kind of hard to define. It was very strange to be in a place where I did not know the language at all, but most people spoke English. The city was nothing like Rome or that type of Europe, but it had colorful buildings and different architecture. It was very cool and I definitely liked it, but it is really hard to describe and define its character. This could be because I was only there for 2 days. The Czech language is kind of confusing and from what I can tell, it involves taking English words and adding a "y" to the end. I saw words such as "miniatury", "bagely", synagogy", "republicky", and "dezerty"
We had all planned to meet at the hostel at 4:00 for our 7:00 flight, but once we got to the hostel and got out our confirmation emails, we realized the time of the flight was NOT 7:00, but 17:00. Military time is so very tricky. After a couple seconds of frantic scrambling, it became apparent that we would not make our flight, so we rushed off to the train station and thankfully caught the next train to Vienna. The train ride was only 5 hours and not that expensive, so it wasn't that bad. Actually, that is probably the smoothest a missed flight has ever gone in the history of missed traveling. We got into Vienna and crashed at Wombat hostel (that's right, Wombat). Wombat has a chain of hostels across Europe and it is pretty hip and very clean. In the hostel is a WomBar, which I unfortunately never checked out, but the high bass music and fun looking arrows pointing to it did look enticing.
Our first day in Vienna was spent at the Hofburg Palace. After another great breakfast at Cafe Hawelka (recommended by my dad via the Travel Channel--he recorded the program on Vienna and held the phone up while I listened) we headed on to the Spanish Riding School to fulfill a lifelong dream of mine--seeing the dance of the Lipizzaner horses. My official story for loving these horses is because I owned horses and use to ride blahblahblah but the real reason is because of the Angry Beavers. That's right, a Nickelodeon cartoon inspired me to go to Vienna to see the prancing Lipizzaners. To really go into the explanation would take too much time, and you would really just need to see that specific episode, so I will refrain. In any case, I was the most excited out of the group and was probably considered the crazy horse girl for dragging everyone to morning exercises at the Spanish Riding School first thing in the morning, but it was worth it.
Our next stop in the palace was the Imperial apartments, the Sisi museum, and a bunch of rooms full of royal dinnerware. There were a ton of plates and really food-specific dishes (example, asparagus holder and duck squeezer). The Sisi museum was super cool and was all about the legend of Princess Elizabeth of Austria. The Imperial Apartments were so extravagant and made me want to be a royal. It was all very cool and enjoyable and not Renaissance art, which is always a plus in my book. After the palace, we walked outside and found a park with autumn leaves. This was a big deal, since Rome doesn't really have any parks or trees, so we hadn't seen any signs of fall. As soon as we came upon a pile of leaves, we all degenerated into 5 year olds and had a leaf fight right in front of the Hofburg Palace. Once we picked the leaves out of our hair, we headed onto the Belvedere gardens, but not before stopping at a Wurstelstand to get some bratwurst. It was filled with cheese and so very good!
We spent a lot of time in the Belvedere gardens because they were really big and very pretty. While strolling through the botanical gardens, we spotted a woman standing very still between some trees. She was in a very awkward pose, but upon further investigation, this was not the strangest thing about her. She had a tail. She was cat woman. We walked a bit closer and (thankfully) discovered a film crew and a shirtless meatloaf-esque large man with really long hair. The hairy man kept chasing cat woman around and I have no idea why. Weird, weird, Austrians.
Austria is a very classy place and maintains its classical background despite its modern look. Mozart is everywhere and street performers play the piano (don't know how they get it onto the street). To stay in line with this classiness, we decided to go to the opera. We waited in line for an hour and a half for £2 standing tickets, got some cake and coffee at the Mozart cafe, then went to the opera. Outfitted in our NorthFace jackets and travel-worn jeans, clutching to our cheap tickets, we looked like uber-peasants. Everyone else was dressed very nicely and the opera house was quite fancy. We went to our standing area to claim our spots among the other peasants, but could find no good vantage point, so this was mostly a listening experience. The opera was Tosca and it was indeed incredible to hear. There were little computer screens that gave translations in various languages, which was pretty cool. We stayed for the first act and then left.
After that classy event, we went to the most Euro trash carnival in the world! We meant to ride this really old ferris wheel, but it was closed, so we stumbled upon this weird, random carnival with a couple rides and a casino. It was all lit up, but almost completely empty. It was a very strange atmosphere and it felt like something straight out of the setup of a bad horror flick. We rode the new, neon ferris wheel, which went right along with our theme of acting like children in Vienna. Once our enjoyment settled into creeped out, we headed back to the hostel and had dinner at a cafe nearby. A few of us ordered bread dumplings to go with our soup, expecting something gnocchi-like or perhaps some actual slices of bread. Instead, we got a giant doughy lump of bread with parsley sprinkled on top. Why anyone would actually intend to order this, I have no idea. It was literally, just a ball of bread!
The next morning we went to another famous cafe--Cafe Demel--which used to serve cake to the royals. The streudel was excellent and went very well with the Starbucks latte I purchased. That's right. Starbucks. The inside of the Starbucks looked exactly like every Starbucks I have ever been in, which was a little surreal, since we were in Vienna. It was a little comforting, though, being instantly transported to America.
On Sunday in Vienna, everything is closed. Well, I guess restaurants and museums are open, but I was really hoping to shop, and every single shop was closed. So instead, we went to the Stephensplatz cathedral, which was ok, but kind of unimpressive. I guess at this point I am just spoiled by Roman churches.
We headed over to the Museum quarter to check out what it had to offer, but none of them really appealed to me, so Dan and I headed off to explore Vienna. We went to the University of Vienna and sneaked inside. It was pretty basic and boring, just a school, but still neat to see another university. Afterwards, we just walked along the Danube. It was a very scenic area with sweet fall foliage. Vienna itself is a very cool city and I liked it a lot.
Before leaving Vienna, I found a souvenir shop (one of the only things open) and bought a winter hat and a pocket watch. The pocket watch doesn't really keep time and has an elk on the front of it. For some reason, I thought a pocket watch would be the perfect souvenir from Vienna, especially since I was heading on a train. I was very correct.
On the tram ride to the train station, a New Yorker noticed my new hat and asked if I was in Vienna to ski (stupid misleading hat) and then decided to strike up a conversation with me. In theory, talking to a fellow American should have been pleasant, but you are forgetting that I attract crazies. I don't know how I manage to not give off a more judgmental vibe, but crazy people seem to look at me and think, "Now there's a girl who wants to hear my life story!". This New Yorker introduced himself and instantly told me about his recent divorce from his Austrian wife. He has two kids, but according to him, they are old enough and don't need him anyway, so he should just go back to New York. He also shouldn't have to pay child support since he'll have to start his life over in New York and that will be costly. Not wanting to start a ruckus on the crowded tram, I just agreed and feigned sympathy. And that is my last event in Vienna.
On the train, we had 3 compartments of 4 beds each. The beds were actually pretty nice and after a couple of hours of talking, we all fell asleep and slept most of the 13 hours back to Rome. Before we left, we had bought a ton of food, which was completely unnecessary, so in addition to our giant backpacks and bags of souvenirs, we also dragged bags of food onto the Rome metro. After 5 long days of traveling, we were quite the group of ragamuffins. The whole experience was very disorienting, because it was like a vacation, but instead of returning home at the end, we went back to Rome and, for some of us, straight to class. It was good to be back in Rome, however, because even after this much traveling, it is still my favorite city and the best place to be.
I am done writing now so you can be done reading now.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Total Louvre-er
When I left the states to study abroad, I had no desire to travel to France. Yet somehow, I ended up in Paris last weekend and I am glad I did. The trip started out as a plan to meet some of my friends studying in London who would also be traveling to Paris that weekend, but due to complications and cell phones not working, this didn't happen, but I did have an ND Rome travel buddy.
I was only in Paris for two full days (got in late Wednesday night, left early Saturday morning) but I still accomplished a lot. I got to see Notre Dame Cathedral (and took really poorly executed hunchback pictures), the Musee D'Orsay (lots of Monets and Van Goghs etc.), the Louvre (too much art), the Eiffel Tower at night (its absolutely massive and it occasionally glitters!), Arc di Triomphe (not impressive, as there are a ton of triumphal arcs in Rome), the Moulin Rouge (smaller than I thought it would be and a little disappointing that Nicole Kidman wasn't singing on it), and the streets of Paris in general. Paris is beautiful--the streets are immaculately clean, the people are excellently dressed (very classic as opposed to the very trendy Italians), and the accents are great to hear. The food was also really good. Where Italians excel at gelato, the French prove their worth with pastries. I had my first crepe at the Quasimodo Cafe outside of Notre Dame cathedral and it was excellent, but the cappuccino I had was awful and only further proof that Italians really do know their coffee best (and that I shouldn't expect the best stuff from the "Quasimodo Cafe"). People were very friendly, which was surprising given the snobby French stereotype. However, fewer people spoke English in Paris than in Rome, which made it a little difficult to get by, considering the only French I know comes from Beauty and the Beast and the song Lady Marmalade. Italian seemed to work well, though, in helping us get along. One thing I noticed about Paris was that there were a lot more American chains like Starbucks and KFC (which was right next to competitor "Euro Fried Chicken"). Also, all the stereotypes about French people, besides the snobby one, are true. They really do wear berets and carry loaves of bread in their purses and have poodles. It kind of felt like a French theme park, with everything being exactly like I had expected, but a little better.
Outside the Louvre, someone offered to take my picture for me. He looked nice enough, so I handed him the camera and he turned around and walked off with it. It took me a second to stop posing and start shouting and walking towards him. He turned around and said "Just kidding!" and proceeded to tell me that he did this to teach me a lesson. French jerk.
That was only the start of my dislike of the Louvre. The Orsay was a much better museum with more recognizable artworks. The Louvre was just huge and contained every piece of art ever created that no one cares about (including a lot of Roman art that I've seen about a million times by now). We spent 6 hours there and by the 4th hour I was looking at the statues not for their artistic value, but to contemplate what their shatter pattern would look like if I pushed them over. Plus, the Mona Lisa wasn't that cool. There was my rant on the Louvre.
Now, a note on the Moulin Rouge. The Moulin Rouge is in a veritable red-light district of Paris. It is located at the end of a street lined with nothing but sex shops and neon lights, complete with copious amounts of nudity and disgustingly inappropriate catcalls from the hordes of men crowding the street. In other words, it was quite the ridiculous experience and a part of Europe I hadn't yet seen. Given our obvious disinterest in what the shops had to offer, we didn't stay long.
After almost missing our flight and our connecting flight (on which I got to have an extended conversation in Italian with the woman sitting next to me, who thought I was French!), we made it back to Rome, where everyone got dressed to the nines for a reception at the villa of the U.S. ambassador to the Holy See. This sounds a lot more impressive than it actually was, since we were invited because the ambassador's daughter is a Notre Dame student in my class. It was still a very classy evening and one of the coolest thing I will do. The villa was gorgeous and it was just a fancy evening in general.
That night I met up with Dana, Sarah B, and their friend Mei-Kay, who were on fall break from London. It was weird for the P.E. girls to be together in Rome, but totally awesome to get to see them. Earlier in the week, I got to see Tesia as well, so after hearing everyone's London stories, I'm super excited to go there.
Today, as I was walking to the Vatican post office, I saw a midget nun. It was excellent.
When I was sitting in St. Peter's Square the other day, studying for a quiz (just take a second to take in that sentence...I still can't get over that I live so close to St. Peter's Square), an Italian man carrying his motorino helmet stood in front of me, staring, until I would look up. He said, in Italian, "You have the most beautiful eyes." I responded, "I'm wearing sunglasses." The guy tried to explain himself by saying he was sure that I did have beautiful eyes if I would only remove my shades, but I just kept insisting that my eyes were nothing special. He sat down anyone and talked to me for a bit, then asked how old I was. When I said 20, he said, "Oh, I'm 40...well, you look busy. I'll leave you alone" then got up and left. I wish I knew how to say "creeper" in Italian.
On the JCU front... When I returned from Paris, I checked my email to find this lovely message:
For those of you who would like to get into the Halloween spirit the Housing Office would like to invite you to participate in our first ever electronic pumpkin carving contest.
This is JCU's sense of school activities. I'm starting to think JCU isn't even like high school. It's more like middle school. (Also, I'm glad they let everyone know how to use Paint and the Copy and Paste functions. Honestly....) If anyone wants to participate in the contest in my place, feel free.
I was only in Paris for two full days (got in late Wednesday night, left early Saturday morning) but I still accomplished a lot. I got to see Notre Dame Cathedral (and took really poorly executed hunchback pictures), the Musee D'Orsay (lots of Monets and Van Goghs etc.), the Louvre (too much art), the Eiffel Tower at night (its absolutely massive and it occasionally glitters!), Arc di Triomphe (not impressive, as there are a ton of triumphal arcs in Rome), the Moulin Rouge (smaller than I thought it would be and a little disappointing that Nicole Kidman wasn't singing on it), and the streets of Paris in general. Paris is beautiful--the streets are immaculately clean, the people are excellently dressed (very classic as opposed to the very trendy Italians), and the accents are great to hear. The food was also really good. Where Italians excel at gelato, the French prove their worth with pastries. I had my first crepe at the Quasimodo Cafe outside of Notre Dame cathedral and it was excellent, but the cappuccino I had was awful and only further proof that Italians really do know their coffee best (and that I shouldn't expect the best stuff from the "Quasimodo Cafe"). People were very friendly, which was surprising given the snobby French stereotype. However, fewer people spoke English in Paris than in Rome, which made it a little difficult to get by, considering the only French I know comes from Beauty and the Beast and the song Lady Marmalade. Italian seemed to work well, though, in helping us get along. One thing I noticed about Paris was that there were a lot more American chains like Starbucks and KFC (which was right next to competitor "Euro Fried Chicken"). Also, all the stereotypes about French people, besides the snobby one, are true. They really do wear berets and carry loaves of bread in their purses and have poodles. It kind of felt like a French theme park, with everything being exactly like I had expected, but a little better.
Outside the Louvre, someone offered to take my picture for me. He looked nice enough, so I handed him the camera and he turned around and walked off with it. It took me a second to stop posing and start shouting and walking towards him. He turned around and said "Just kidding!" and proceeded to tell me that he did this to teach me a lesson. French jerk.
That was only the start of my dislike of the Louvre. The Orsay was a much better museum with more recognizable artworks. The Louvre was just huge and contained every piece of art ever created that no one cares about (including a lot of Roman art that I've seen about a million times by now). We spent 6 hours there and by the 4th hour I was looking at the statues not for their artistic value, but to contemplate what their shatter pattern would look like if I pushed them over. Plus, the Mona Lisa wasn't that cool. There was my rant on the Louvre.
Now, a note on the Moulin Rouge. The Moulin Rouge is in a veritable red-light district of Paris. It is located at the end of a street lined with nothing but sex shops and neon lights, complete with copious amounts of nudity and disgustingly inappropriate catcalls from the hordes of men crowding the street. In other words, it was quite the ridiculous experience and a part of Europe I hadn't yet seen. Given our obvious disinterest in what the shops had to offer, we didn't stay long.
After almost missing our flight and our connecting flight (on which I got to have an extended conversation in Italian with the woman sitting next to me, who thought I was French!), we made it back to Rome, where everyone got dressed to the nines for a reception at the villa of the U.S. ambassador to the Holy See. This sounds a lot more impressive than it actually was, since we were invited because the ambassador's daughter is a Notre Dame student in my class. It was still a very classy evening and one of the coolest thing I will do. The villa was gorgeous and it was just a fancy evening in general.
That night I met up with Dana, Sarah B, and their friend Mei-Kay, who were on fall break from London. It was weird for the P.E. girls to be together in Rome, but totally awesome to get to see them. Earlier in the week, I got to see Tesia as well, so after hearing everyone's London stories, I'm super excited to go there.
Today, as I was walking to the Vatican post office, I saw a midget nun. It was excellent.
When I was sitting in St. Peter's Square the other day, studying for a quiz (just take a second to take in that sentence...I still can't get over that I live so close to St. Peter's Square), an Italian man carrying his motorino helmet stood in front of me, staring, until I would look up. He said, in Italian, "You have the most beautiful eyes." I responded, "I'm wearing sunglasses." The guy tried to explain himself by saying he was sure that I did have beautiful eyes if I would only remove my shades, but I just kept insisting that my eyes were nothing special. He sat down anyone and talked to me for a bit, then asked how old I was. When I said 20, he said, "Oh, I'm 40...well, you look busy. I'll leave you alone" then got up and left. I wish I knew how to say "creeper" in Italian.
On the JCU front... When I returned from Paris, I checked my email to find this lovely message:
For those of you who would like to get into the Halloween spirit the Housing Office would like to invite you to participate in our first ever electronic pumpkin carving contest.
Here’s how it works:
Click on this link: http://www.coasttocoastam.com
Create your pumpkin.
Open the Paint program on your computer.
Go back to your carved pumpkin.
Push the print screen button (Stamp/R Sist) on your computer.
Go back to Paint and paste (ctrl v).
Your carved pumpkin should be pasted into Paint.
Save the picture on your computer.
Either respond to this email or create a new email addressed to housing@johncabot.edu and attach your saved pumpkin (jack-o-lantern) picture. In the subject line of the email write your name and phone number (so we can contact you if you win).
This is JCU's sense of school activities. I'm starting to think JCU isn't even like high school. It's more like middle school. (Also, I'm glad they let everyone know how to use Paint and the Copy and Paste functions. Honestly....) If anyone wants to participate in the contest in my place, feel free.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Killing Abroad
JCU and its students continue to confound and amaze me. Why anyone would choose to attend this university for an entire 4 years, I will never understand, yet there are some who do.
For instance, Joe from the Ventotene post is a student from Portugal who attends JCU out of his own free will for the duration of his college education. He is in my international marketing class and is full of classy questions.
The other day in said class, we were discussing international law as part of an international marketing strategy. Joe eagerly raises his hand and asks a question having nothing to do with marketing, but I suppose it was related to international law. Question: "So, I am Portuguese. I live in Italy. What would happen if I kill someone in Brazil?" The professor answers with something about if he killed someone in Spain, he would be in trouble because its part of the EU, but Joe kept refuting that answer with, "But I killed the guy in Brazil!" Seeing as he had no answer and his students were starting to feel a little uncomfortable, he moved the class on.
Later during that same lecture, Joe brought forth another question along the same lines. "So, I'm Portuguese. What if I'm in Italy, driving a German car, and I run over a Roman? What would happen to me then? Who's laws do I fall under?" I'm not quite sure why he thought the outcome would change depending on the make of the car he was driving. The professor pretty much brushed this question off as well, but I think some further interrogation should be done of Joe. I will be careful never to cross him, at least not in Brazil or whilst he is driving a German car.
For instance, Joe from the Ventotene post is a student from Portugal who attends JCU out of his own free will for the duration of his college education. He is in my international marketing class and is full of classy questions.
The other day in said class, we were discussing international law as part of an international marketing strategy. Joe eagerly raises his hand and asks a question having nothing to do with marketing, but I suppose it was related to international law. Question: "So, I am Portuguese. I live in Italy. What would happen if I kill someone in Brazil?" The professor answers with something about if he killed someone in Spain, he would be in trouble because its part of the EU, but Joe kept refuting that answer with, "But I killed the guy in Brazil!" Seeing as he had no answer and his students were starting to feel a little uncomfortable, he moved the class on.
Later during that same lecture, Joe brought forth another question along the same lines. "So, I'm Portuguese. What if I'm in Italy, driving a German car, and I run over a Roman? What would happen to me then? Who's laws do I fall under?" I'm not quite sure why he thought the outcome would change depending on the make of the car he was driving. The professor pretty much brushed this question off as well, but I think some further interrogation should be done of Joe. I will be careful never to cross him, at least not in Brazil or whilst he is driving a German car.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Feeding Frenzy
My apartment is absolutely freezing. The heat doesn't get turned on until November 15. I am painfully cold. Hopefully, writing about the weekend's events will take my mind off of it.
Wednesday, I went to Alexanderplatz, a really groovy jazz joint very close to the apartments. The woman singing that night was excellent and did a cover of Britney Spears's "Toxic". It sounded much better with a jazzy tone.
Thursday, I spent walking around the Trastevere and Vatican area by myself. It was nice to just chill out and take in the city. I walked past a guy on a pay phone and he stopped mid-sentence to shout a "Ciao bella" my way. Does that ever work? Does anyone actually stop and say, "Why, how nice that you called me beautiful simply because you noticed I am female! Please, continue with your flattering generalizations and then perhaps we shall go to the local discoteca tonight." No. Never.
Thursday night, a group of us went to Piazza Navona. We ended up in a bar that became infiltrated with lots of pasty British guys ranging from the ages of 26 to 56. One was sporting underwear on the outside of his pants and carrying around a wooden spoon. We decided he would be a fun guy to talk to and we did have an interesting conversation about his attire, which he explained by saying, "Isn't this what the Romans do?" Nope, not usually. Then he asked us if we were Canadian, so of course we said yes and he said, "Yeah, you don't seem good enough to be Americans." It was eventually (or right after this comment) revealed that we were American and this British fellow wanted to know where in America I was from. I don't know why I even bothered saying Ohio. Everyone just gives me a false nod of recognition whenever I say Ohio. The British guy was no different, except he went a little further in trying to figure out where it was. I pretty much told him it was next to New York City. Close enough. Later, we met this British guy's super creepy friend who talked constantly about how he just loooooved the American accent and any girl who had it could just melt his heart by talking. I tried to stay silent when around him, but I still got an awkward, uncomfortable, and uninvited lingering cheek kiss from him when he left. He was gross.
After about 2 hours of sleep that night, I got up and went to Perugia with Caitlin for the EuroChocolate festival. Perugia is a town in Umbria near Assisi and it has a university. It's a lot less touristy than other towns and very pretty. Chocolate Festival was very cool and consisted of a collection of tents throughout the town, all with various kinds of chocolate in any shape or flavor you could want. There was violet chocolate, pure dark chocolate, cinnamon chocolate, chocolate covered fruit, chocolate cell phones, chocolate batteries, hot chocolate, chocolate with absinthe, chocolate and hot peppers, chocolate pasta, etc. We were welcomed into Perugia by a very attractive man dressed in a giant blue mouse costume (we later found out he was supposed to be Ratattouie). He walked up right in front of Caitlin and I, waved and said "Buon giorno!" and walked off. We were so stunned by his hot factor that for a moment, we forgot he was dressed as a cartoon mouse and gave a jaunty buon giorno right back at him. Later that day, we found him again and without saying a word, handed a camera to someone and got on either side of him and snapped a photo. We left with a "Grazie" and a "Ciao, topo!" (Bye, mouse!). After eating oodles of chocolate and drinking some super thick hot chocolate, we decided we needed an actual meal and had the best pizza yet at a little pizzeria that had the feeling/smell of a church basement. Then we went searching for Ruff Stuff, a gangsta ghetto fabulous store we heard about from MTV's Italy guide book. After searching for quite some time, we finally found it, and it was closed. Bummer. But we did find a great vintage store. Good thing Perugia is small because we went to it three times before it was opened. The store itself was very small, but it had a lot of treasures like Prada shoes and real snake skin clutches. I tried on a pair of knee high boots, but as with most Italian boots, it didn't zip up all the way because of the giant calves I have developed from all the walking I do here. I have no idea why all Italians do not have massive legs. When the woman who owned the store asked if the boots fit I said, "No, ho le gambe come un uomo." (I have legs like a man). She replied with a "Si" and a nod in agreement. Stupid man legs. The rest of Perugia was very cool and scenic and the chocolate was terrific.
Instead of collapsing into bed as soon as I got back that night, a group of us went to Trastevere to see Quentin Terantino. That's right, the director. We had all gotten an email inviting us to a club opening which was also a party for Quentin Terantino. The invite boasted a hip hop and R&B party and an actual appearance by Quentin himself. Most were skeptical, but I put my trust in JCU (bad decision right there) and went to the party, camera in hand, ready to photograph QT and ask him for a job. We got to the club around 11:30. It didn't open until 12:30 and when we asked the bouncer about Quentin he acted like he couldn't understand us and just kept repeating the opening time of the club. Finally, the club opened and a flood of American students dressed as Reservoir Dogs eagerly awaiting Terantino's arrival lined up. We handed over our special invitations and asked a different bouncer about QT. She laughed at us and said, "This is Italy!" which I guess meant that in Italy, it's ok to lie to people about celebrity appearances to get them to go to a club. We left after about 10 minutes of being there. Next week, the club is having a party for Spike Lee. I will not be going.
On the way to that club we did see an interesting sight--an Italian bachelorette party. A gaggle of inebriated Italian women was gathered outside the Vatican walls (great place for debauchery) and one had a veil on and sign around her neck asking for help. Her task was to stop cars in the street and wash their windows. She was all about this and was running out into the street to wash windows. Her sign said she was getting married the very next day. I hope she didn't get hit by a car the night before her wedding.
Today was a fantastic day. It included all my favorite elements of Italy--great food, great friends, great views, and Maria Younes. Plus it was free! We went on a Notre Dame sponsored trip to Farfa. I'm still not entirely sure where Farfa is, but I think it's near Florence, so it must be in Tuscany. The town of Farfa is very small and quiet and has tons of cats and dogs just running around. There was one little dog that followed us around everywhere. I named him Quentin Terantino in honor of the previous night. No one called him this. When we got to Farfa, we walked around the town for a bit, sampled some honey from a roadside stand, and pet some stray cats. Then we hiked up a hill to an olive grove. The hike was nothing because, after Assisi, every incline will seem like cake. Along the hike, we stopped and looked at the vegetation, which was very Mediterranean and beachy. There was a strong wind blowing that made a great sound through all the trees and bushes. We got to the top of the hill where our tour guide's mother and 3-year old son, Lorenzo, met us. The view was great and you could see lots of olive groves. If you looked very hard, you could see St. Peter's on the horizon. After telling us a few facts about olives, we were sent out to take a quiz, the questions of which were tied to trees throughout the olive grove. The top three scorers each got a bottle of the grove's homemade olive oil, which we sample later and was very good. I was a top scorer, but I attribute that to my lucky guessing skills rather than to my knowledge of olives. The best part of the day was lunch. We sat on a patio on top of the hill, overlooking the olive grove and all of Farfa. We had meat, cheese, bread, olive oil, salad, olives, lentil soup, mapo (cross between grapefruits and clementines), and "chocolate surprise". It was one of the best meals ever, and not just because of the great food, but also because of the great view and tranquility of the place. After we went down the hill, we took a tour of the Benedictine abbey. It was a lovely day.
There were a few crazy Maria Younes stories. I don't know what it is with her, but she is just weird. When we were at the honey stand, someone mentioned that they put honey in their tea. Maria responded with, "I put honey in my tea, too! See, we are alike! We are very similar!" At the end of the trip when we got off the bus and headed back to the apartments, Maria shouted "YOUR WELCOME" after us, insinuating we were rude children who never said thank you. We did say thank you several times throughout the trip. We just didn't say it all in unison at the end of the trip. There are other Maria stories, but they are all too topical and I don't really feel like telling them (you probably don't feel like reading them).
Now I'm probably going to go run my face under some boiling water or walk on some hot coals or something to warm up. I did not pack well for this...
Wednesday, I went to Alexanderplatz, a really groovy jazz joint very close to the apartments. The woman singing that night was excellent and did a cover of Britney Spears's "Toxic". It sounded much better with a jazzy tone.
Thursday, I spent walking around the Trastevere and Vatican area by myself. It was nice to just chill out and take in the city. I walked past a guy on a pay phone and he stopped mid-sentence to shout a "Ciao bella" my way. Does that ever work? Does anyone actually stop and say, "Why, how nice that you called me beautiful simply because you noticed I am female! Please, continue with your flattering generalizations and then perhaps we shall go to the local discoteca tonight." No. Never.
Thursday night, a group of us went to Piazza Navona. We ended up in a bar that became infiltrated with lots of pasty British guys ranging from the ages of 26 to 56. One was sporting underwear on the outside of his pants and carrying around a wooden spoon. We decided he would be a fun guy to talk to and we did have an interesting conversation about his attire, which he explained by saying, "Isn't this what the Romans do?" Nope, not usually. Then he asked us if we were Canadian, so of course we said yes and he said, "Yeah, you don't seem good enough to be Americans." It was eventually (or right after this comment) revealed that we were American and this British fellow wanted to know where in America I was from. I don't know why I even bothered saying Ohio. Everyone just gives me a false nod of recognition whenever I say Ohio. The British guy was no different, except he went a little further in trying to figure out where it was. I pretty much told him it was next to New York City. Close enough. Later, we met this British guy's super creepy friend who talked constantly about how he just loooooved the American accent and any girl who had it could just melt his heart by talking. I tried to stay silent when around him, but I still got an awkward, uncomfortable, and uninvited lingering cheek kiss from him when he left. He was gross.
After about 2 hours of sleep that night, I got up and went to Perugia with Caitlin for the EuroChocolate festival. Perugia is a town in Umbria near Assisi and it has a university. It's a lot less touristy than other towns and very pretty. Chocolate Festival was very cool and consisted of a collection of tents throughout the town, all with various kinds of chocolate in any shape or flavor you could want. There was violet chocolate, pure dark chocolate, cinnamon chocolate, chocolate covered fruit, chocolate cell phones, chocolate batteries, hot chocolate, chocolate with absinthe, chocolate and hot peppers, chocolate pasta, etc. We were welcomed into Perugia by a very attractive man dressed in a giant blue mouse costume (we later found out he was supposed to be Ratattouie). He walked up right in front of Caitlin and I, waved and said "Buon giorno!" and walked off. We were so stunned by his hot factor that for a moment, we forgot he was dressed as a cartoon mouse and gave a jaunty buon giorno right back at him. Later that day, we found him again and without saying a word, handed a camera to someone and got on either side of him and snapped a photo. We left with a "Grazie" and a "Ciao, topo!" (Bye, mouse!). After eating oodles of chocolate and drinking some super thick hot chocolate, we decided we needed an actual meal and had the best pizza yet at a little pizzeria that had the feeling/smell of a church basement. Then we went searching for Ruff Stuff, a gangsta ghetto fabulous store we heard about from MTV's Italy guide book. After searching for quite some time, we finally found it, and it was closed. Bummer. But we did find a great vintage store. Good thing Perugia is small because we went to it three times before it was opened. The store itself was very small, but it had a lot of treasures like Prada shoes and real snake skin clutches. I tried on a pair of knee high boots, but as with most Italian boots, it didn't zip up all the way because of the giant calves I have developed from all the walking I do here. I have no idea why all Italians do not have massive legs. When the woman who owned the store asked if the boots fit I said, "No, ho le gambe come un uomo." (I have legs like a man). She replied with a "Si" and a nod in agreement. Stupid man legs. The rest of Perugia was very cool and scenic and the chocolate was terrific.
Instead of collapsing into bed as soon as I got back that night, a group of us went to Trastevere to see Quentin Terantino. That's right, the director. We had all gotten an email inviting us to a club opening which was also a party for Quentin Terantino. The invite boasted a hip hop and R&B party and an actual appearance by Quentin himself. Most were skeptical, but I put my trust in JCU (bad decision right there) and went to the party, camera in hand, ready to photograph QT and ask him for a job. We got to the club around 11:30. It didn't open until 12:30 and when we asked the bouncer about Quentin he acted like he couldn't understand us and just kept repeating the opening time of the club. Finally, the club opened and a flood of American students dressed as Reservoir Dogs eagerly awaiting Terantino's arrival lined up. We handed over our special invitations and asked a different bouncer about QT. She laughed at us and said, "This is Italy!" which I guess meant that in Italy, it's ok to lie to people about celebrity appearances to get them to go to a club. We left after about 10 minutes of being there. Next week, the club is having a party for Spike Lee. I will not be going.
On the way to that club we did see an interesting sight--an Italian bachelorette party. A gaggle of inebriated Italian women was gathered outside the Vatican walls (great place for debauchery) and one had a veil on and sign around her neck asking for help. Her task was to stop cars in the street and wash their windows. She was all about this and was running out into the street to wash windows. Her sign said she was getting married the very next day. I hope she didn't get hit by a car the night before her wedding.
Today was a fantastic day. It included all my favorite elements of Italy--great food, great friends, great views, and Maria Younes. Plus it was free! We went on a Notre Dame sponsored trip to Farfa. I'm still not entirely sure where Farfa is, but I think it's near Florence, so it must be in Tuscany. The town of Farfa is very small and quiet and has tons of cats and dogs just running around. There was one little dog that followed us around everywhere. I named him Quentin Terantino in honor of the previous night. No one called him this. When we got to Farfa, we walked around the town for a bit, sampled some honey from a roadside stand, and pet some stray cats. Then we hiked up a hill to an olive grove. The hike was nothing because, after Assisi, every incline will seem like cake. Along the hike, we stopped and looked at the vegetation, which was very Mediterranean and beachy. There was a strong wind blowing that made a great sound through all the trees and bushes. We got to the top of the hill where our tour guide's mother and 3-year old son, Lorenzo, met us. The view was great and you could see lots of olive groves. If you looked very hard, you could see St. Peter's on the horizon. After telling us a few facts about olives, we were sent out to take a quiz, the questions of which were tied to trees throughout the olive grove. The top three scorers each got a bottle of the grove's homemade olive oil, which we sample later and was very good. I was a top scorer, but I attribute that to my lucky guessing skills rather than to my knowledge of olives. The best part of the day was lunch. We sat on a patio on top of the hill, overlooking the olive grove and all of Farfa. We had meat, cheese, bread, olive oil, salad, olives, lentil soup, mapo (cross between grapefruits and clementines), and "chocolate surprise". It was one of the best meals ever, and not just because of the great food, but also because of the great view and tranquility of the place. After we went down the hill, we took a tour of the Benedictine abbey. It was a lovely day.
There were a few crazy Maria Younes stories. I don't know what it is with her, but she is just weird. When we were at the honey stand, someone mentioned that they put honey in their tea. Maria responded with, "I put honey in my tea, too! See, we are alike! We are very similar!" At the end of the trip when we got off the bus and headed back to the apartments, Maria shouted "YOUR WELCOME" after us, insinuating we were rude children who never said thank you. We did say thank you several times throughout the trip. We just didn't say it all in unison at the end of the trip. There are other Maria stories, but they are all too topical and I don't really feel like telling them (you probably don't feel like reading them).
Now I'm probably going to go run my face under some boiling water or walk on some hot coals or something to warm up. I did not pack well for this...
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