One more final tomorrow and then I'm free to wallow in my depression over leaving/ celebrate going home/ take in the city for my last two days. Then I fly to MN on the 21st.
OR DO I.
As you surely know, that is also the day the world is predicted to end. I have thought through a lot of potential scenarios. Here are the most likely:
1) The world bursts into flames. Everyone on Earth is incinerated in an instant. However I, unaware, am safe on an airplane watching romantic comedies and laughing at SkyMall pillows. The flames die out during my flight and I arrive safely on land. It's now up to me and the other Plane People of 2012 to repopulate Earth. Colonies develop and alliances are made between airlines. On Earth 2.0, food consists solely of charred plants and endless peanuts. Some LOST-type stuff probably happens. That weird redhead Safety Instruction video lady who goes "Smoking is not allowed" becomes a God figure. Everything's pretty jungly for awhile, but people are generally into it, etc.
Greatest concern: Locating most attractive male/ future mate upon boarding.
2) Science and/or God did not plan for airplanes, so we have not been worked into the equation. All Sky Humans are vanished into another dimension.
Greatest concern: I picture that dimension either looking boring/empty like when Squidward goes waay too far into the future, or being really messy with a lot of space garbage.
3) First one to the gates, y'all! No lines because I was already halfway up here when this business started. Some beezies try to budge (don't some always) while pretending to be on the phone or something, but God was totally watching and that was a test all along.
Greatest concern: Movies tell me that the paperwork process to get in to heaven is super arduous, and I'm not in the mood after finals.
Another possibility is that this'll go down right at midnight, therefore my flight is irrelevant. Which would suck because I'll have gone through the effort of packing, but otherwise the scenario isn't that bad. I can feel accomplished for finishing out the semester, plus I spent my last few months going to the best places on Earth with wonderful friends.
I've heard a lot of students say it's bad that we'll have spent our whole lives in school, but are they kidding? That would be ideal. Never having to face real life. Why do they think Masters programs exist? Everyone wants to hide in school.
Except that finals are a nuisance. I guess I should go study for that last one. So close.
Goodnight and a very Happy Doomsday to you all.
Lauren
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
All Play and No Work Makes Me a Stressed Girl
I have my first exam tomorrow morning. Generally in Italy, which is true for all of my classes, grades are based entirely off of an oral exam at the end of the course.
All of my professors literally wrote the books on their fields on study. Yesterday's Contemporary Italian Literature class was a panel my professor organized with his lit buddies, where they all talked about their friend Stefano (Tassinari) who wrote one of the books on which we're being tested. The level of qualification of these professors is really cool, but entirely intimidating.
The University of Bologna is really legitimate. A classmate from Naples was telling me yesterday about how she wanted to go to university in Bologna her entire life and she was finally there. It's easy to forget that people like Dante and Pope Alexander VI studied here because a general sense of motivation/ desire to learn is lacking at UniBo these days. Yesterday, 16 out of >150 students showed up to one of my history classes. I appeared to be paying the most attention but, in reality, I was recording what the other 15 were doing, i.e. napping or blatantly texting. Sometimes I feel like I'm in an inner-city high school detention. Granted, there was a T.A. yesterday with an impossible dialect.
All of my reasons for choosing a small, nurturing college over a large university are amplified here. However, as a student abroad, there are serious pros to this system. I'm grateful to not have to participate in Italian discussion, because just focusing on the lessons is a brain exercise. I greatly value my relationships with my professors in Claremont but, here, it's nice to peace out for a week to travel Iceland. Additionally, I love that Bologna is a University city. The atmosphere in the main piazza near the UniBo buildings is clearly that of a university. I love that I live near the wealthy, quiet, old people and easily walk to the bustling, cool center of the University. I love that the walk is under beautiful porticoes, past ancient sculptures, down streets- some chic, some quaint, and all quintessentially Italian. I love Bologna. Every time I left, I could appreciate it in a new way when I returned. Of course, I'm seeing its perfection ever clearer as my departure draws frighteningly near.
I'm excited to have a few full days to take it in after these exams. In the meantime, in bocca al lupo a me!
"In bocca al lupo" means good luck, though it's literally "in the mouth of the wolf." The response is "crepi!", meaning "die!" Hopefully whatever that metaphor is still works on foreigners, because my test tomorrow is on Social and Economic Medieval History and I already feel like I'm going to die!
All of my professors literally wrote the books on their fields on study. Yesterday's Contemporary Italian Literature class was a panel my professor organized with his lit buddies, where they all talked about their friend Stefano (Tassinari) who wrote one of the books on which we're being tested. The level of qualification of these professors is really cool, but entirely intimidating.
The University of Bologna is really legitimate. A classmate from Naples was telling me yesterday about how she wanted to go to university in Bologna her entire life and she was finally there. It's easy to forget that people like Dante and Pope Alexander VI studied here because a general sense of motivation/ desire to learn is lacking at UniBo these days. Yesterday, 16 out of >150 students showed up to one of my history classes. I appeared to be paying the most attention but, in reality, I was recording what the other 15 were doing, i.e. napping or blatantly texting. Sometimes I feel like I'm in an inner-city high school detention. Granted, there was a T.A. yesterday with an impossible dialect.
All of my reasons for choosing a small, nurturing college over a large university are amplified here. However, as a student abroad, there are serious pros to this system. I'm grateful to not have to participate in Italian discussion, because just focusing on the lessons is a brain exercise. I greatly value my relationships with my professors in Claremont but, here, it's nice to peace out for a week to travel Iceland. Additionally, I love that Bologna is a University city. The atmosphere in the main piazza near the UniBo buildings is clearly that of a university. I love that I live near the wealthy, quiet, old people and easily walk to the bustling, cool center of the University. I love that the walk is under beautiful porticoes, past ancient sculptures, down streets- some chic, some quaint, and all quintessentially Italian. I love Bologna. Every time I left, I could appreciate it in a new way when I returned. Of course, I'm seeing its perfection ever clearer as my departure draws frighteningly near.
I'm excited to have a few full days to take it in after these exams. In the meantime, in bocca al lupo a me!
"In bocca al lupo" means good luck, though it's literally "in the mouth of the wolf." The response is "crepi!", meaning "die!" Hopefully whatever that metaphor is still works on foreigners, because my test tomorrow is on Social and Economic Medieval History and I already feel like I'm going to die!
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Great Britain and, even greater, Iceland
I've started many an entry about earlier adventures, and have written several complete journals on paper while pretending to take notes , but need to interrupt the slow process of typing those posts to talk about this past week. (You know you're studying at an Italian university when writing a full blog post feels like a large writing endeavor.)
I made the best travel sandwich ever, with a four day Iceland trip between two London weekends. So, basically, an ice cream sandwich because I ate an insane number of Ben's Cookies during both London trips and the ice middle comparison is obvious.
For the record, I realize that I run a high risk of sounding like a brat when writing about my good fortune with travel opportunities. Let the disclaimers show that I am merely taking advantage of my geographical proximity to cultures that I will not have the chance to view again for an indefinitely long amount of time. Traveling in this particular way (as a student with limited obligations, visiting other studying friends, etc.) is the reward that goes along with the social and personal challenges of being immersed in another culture and language.
And if it subtracts any Brat Points in your mind, know that I had to fly through London to get to and from Iceland, therefore stopping to salivate in Harrod's was only logical? Plus it's Christmas, so what's a Love Actually fanatic to do but revel in the glory of the season and the preciousness of those babies' clothes.
Londra* Round 1 was from late on a Friday evening to iNs@n3Ly early on a Sunday morning. My friend Emma, who also goes to school in Claremont and is in Parma for the semester, met me there to see a production of Twelfth Night at the Apollo with Stephen Fry as Malvolio. Due to some booking confusion, we actually had tickets to Richard III with the same cast/crew. It ended up being a happy accident because we were able to see both plays and both were wonderful. I won't break into a full play review, but the acting was superb. At the top levels, theatre actors really know what they're doing and I'm very jealous of their lives. (The worst theatre people, however, are the worst people people.)
Kat spent that Saturday night in London as well because we had to wake up at, no exaggeration, 3:00a.m. to get to the airport. When booking, I tend to forget that afternoon flight means waking up early and early flight means replacing a night of sleep with a power nap riddled with airport anxiety dreams.
But all of the stressful modes of transport were completely worth it for Iceland. Prior to going, I realized that I was setting myself up for disappointment by expecting to discover literally the most breathtakingly spectacular place of my life. However, it managed to meet those expectations because Iceland appears how one might imagine a fairy realm on Mars. I've never been to New Zealand, but I would say that Iceland is unparalleled in nature. Everyone there told us that spending time in nature is a huge part of Icelanders' lives and that a certain (large %) of space must be left open. According to Kat's friend who lived in Iceland for a summer, there are also places where cars cannot drive, as they would disrupt the elves in those regions. This comes as no surprise because our Golden Circle tour guide was more knowledgeable about trolls than any of the sites he showed us... due to knowing a ton about trolls and not so much about the Golden Circle.
I totally buy that there are elves in Iceland. Their wildlife is completely unique, as the country has never been in contact with another. The ducks look sort of like dinosaurs and the horses (which we didn't ride, but I'd love to in the future) ride much smoother, i.e. apparently they can crouch down and move smoothly over the rocky terrain. Driving anywhere, one continuously passes open pastures of cows and horses roaming in front of an arctic backdrop of mountains, glaciers, pools of vibrant blue water, and the occasional quaint wood-sided home. So that was all right.
The Icelanders don't realize it, but they are the original hipsters. Hipsters don't realize it, but they're all trying to be Icelanders. It's not even their way of dressing or randomly cool decorative taste (though it's these, too), as much as their taste in really good music that no one else has heard of. While countries like Italy areoverly fond of the most overplayed American hits from 2009, I heard almost strictly Icelandic music in Reykjavik. Records stores pop up like Starbucks, but all of the stores (not just music sellers) are playing cool music. One CD that I bought and like is Ásgeir Trausti. He's Icelandic Bon Iver, if you're into that. In fact, they sound so much alike that I've wondered if they are truly one person. Suspicious. By the way, amongst my other musical purchases is a CD of ancient melodies about a battle in 1238... I'm honestly unsure of how that made it out of the store with me, but it's not surprising that Reykjavik spurs impulse purchases of that nature.
Agh this is getting unreadably long. I'll try to selectively bullet point my way to the end of this.
- Because it's winter, sunlight there was highly limited. The good news was that we got to watch the pastel streaks of sunrise even when we slept in and we felt like we were cool/staying out late because 'out past dark' meant being out until after 6:00p.m.. Therefore, we got a ton of sleep even though we were up before and after the sun.
- Iceland is the best kept secret travel destination. Maybe it's because there aren't famous landmarks like Paris and other big European cities have? Especially now in the cold, there were no Americans. We did meet a lot of nice British people on tours, in restaurants, and in our hostel (more on the hostel when I post pictures). Kat and I had all six beds to ourselves for the first two nights before some very nice English people moved in.
- The answer to the above point may be that the exchange rate sucks a lot.
- When Kat and I left the hostel on Thursday morning, we were supposed to catch a bus bright and early, because that's how these cheapy flights tend to go. Unfortunately, the sun thing was a bit of a hinderance in that case. It was early, but definitely not bright, so sleeping through the bus felt normal when my alarm didn't go off. We still made it to the gate with time to spare, which was a pleasant surprise when we already thought we'd have to rush with the bus an hour earlier. And THAT'S why you always leavea note a ridiculous amount of extra time when traveling. Finally, I was rewarded for my paranoid tendency to allow for a three hour security line.***
During Londra** Round 2, Kat, Nikki (Scripps), and I stayed with Nikki's friend/former soccer coach in a real adult human apartment. We did a lot of the classics, such as the Changing of the Guard and the major museums. One thing I notice/admire about the English, at least in London, is that they collectively present as elegant and bright. They strike me as a generally more educated population than those I encounter in American public spaces. That could just be the Anglophilia speaking, and I'm not necessarily saying they are more intelligent, but their accents, vocabulary, and mannerisms come off that way to me. For example, the children in the museums all seemed more inquisitive than I've encountered in the States. Also, reading. Everywhere, people are reading. Print journalism doesn't appear to be dying at all in London, where more than half of every train and bus contains people of all sorts studying newspapers.
I'd like to live in London for some extended period of time in my life, partially just to see if I'd ever stop being embarrassingly enchanted by every little thing the British do. Preferably in that situation I would be making my money in GBP because, again, that exchange rate is rough man. I'm pretty sure Europe is just paying the value of the paper itself at this point.
Really in its entirety, the trip was grand (Kat tells me this is how they describe everything in Ireland). London is probably my favo(u)rite city in the world and there's nothing like it at Christmastime. Attaching that to Iceland, the world's #1 Worst Place to Be Blind, made for one of the best weeks ever. Hopefully that magic will push me through the final exam stress that's looming as I type.
*Am I the only one confused about why we don't universally refer to cities by the names they have in their own countries?
**Further, is the inconsistency of the changes not confusing? Roma's too hard to say, but Reykjavik's good to go? I just want to understand.****
***On the way to London, I got through security before 7:30a.m. and my flight boarded past 10... I was seriously the only passenger in the entire airport for awhile. It was bizarre, but good for snoozing. The weirdest part of that check in was when the passport review lady made me wind through an incredibly long maze of those line separator things by myself. We made awkward eye contact (I thought it was awk; she didn't seem to) the entire time. Here. To give you an idea:
[ ▲ ] <- This is the airport lady at her little fake mahogany desk
============== / / and her face is like, ◕‿◕
\ \===========================
============================/ /
\ \===========================
============================/ /
\ \==================△======== <- Meanwhile, there I am ~1 min into the labyrinth
============================/ / and my face is something like, (-___-)
\ \================
\ \
\ \
That was a lot more detail than I was planning to give for the story and a lot more Asian than I was planning to be with the emotional descriptions. Anyway. Work time. Ehhhhhhh
Merry almost Christmas,
Lauren
****Apologies if the asterisk keys are hard to follow
I made the best travel sandwich ever, with a four day Iceland trip between two London weekends. So, basically, an ice cream sandwich because I ate an insane number of Ben's Cookies during both London trips and the ice middle comparison is obvious.
For the record, I realize that I run a high risk of sounding like a brat when writing about my good fortune with travel opportunities. Let the disclaimers show that I am merely taking advantage of my geographical proximity to cultures that I will not have the chance to view again for an indefinitely long amount of time. Traveling in this particular way (as a student with limited obligations, visiting other studying friends, etc.) is the reward that goes along with the social and personal challenges of being immersed in another culture and language.
And if it subtracts any Brat Points in your mind, know that I had to fly through London to get to and from Iceland, therefore stopping to salivate in Harrod's was only logical? Plus it's Christmas, so what's a Love Actually fanatic to do but revel in the glory of the season and the preciousness of those babies' clothes.
Londra* Round 1 was from late on a Friday evening to iNs@n3Ly early on a Sunday morning. My friend Emma, who also goes to school in Claremont and is in Parma for the semester, met me there to see a production of Twelfth Night at the Apollo with Stephen Fry as Malvolio. Due to some booking confusion, we actually had tickets to Richard III with the same cast/crew. It ended up being a happy accident because we were able to see both plays and both were wonderful. I won't break into a full play review, but the acting was superb. At the top levels, theatre actors really know what they're doing and I'm very jealous of their lives. (The worst theatre people, however, are the worst people people.)
Kat spent that Saturday night in London as well because we had to wake up at, no exaggeration, 3:00a.m. to get to the airport. When booking, I tend to forget that afternoon flight means waking up early and early flight means replacing a night of sleep with a power nap riddled with airport anxiety dreams.
But all of the stressful modes of transport were completely worth it for Iceland. Prior to going, I realized that I was setting myself up for disappointment by expecting to discover literally the most breathtakingly spectacular place of my life. However, it managed to meet those expectations because Iceland appears how one might imagine a fairy realm on Mars. I've never been to New Zealand, but I would say that Iceland is unparalleled in nature. Everyone there told us that spending time in nature is a huge part of Icelanders' lives and that a certain (large %) of space must be left open. According to Kat's friend who lived in Iceland for a summer, there are also places where cars cannot drive, as they would disrupt the elves in those regions. This comes as no surprise because our Golden Circle tour guide was more knowledgeable about trolls than any of the sites he showed us... due to knowing a ton about trolls and not so much about the Golden Circle.
I totally buy that there are elves in Iceland. Their wildlife is completely unique, as the country has never been in contact with another. The ducks look sort of like dinosaurs and the horses (which we didn't ride, but I'd love to in the future) ride much smoother, i.e. apparently they can crouch down and move smoothly over the rocky terrain. Driving anywhere, one continuously passes open pastures of cows and horses roaming in front of an arctic backdrop of mountains, glaciers, pools of vibrant blue water, and the occasional quaint wood-sided home. So that was all right.
The Icelanders don't realize it, but they are the original hipsters. Hipsters don't realize it, but they're all trying to be Icelanders. It's not even their way of dressing or randomly cool decorative taste (though it's these, too), as much as their taste in really good music that no one else has heard of. While countries like Italy are
Agh this is getting unreadably long. I'll try to selectively bullet point my way to the end of this.
- Because it's winter, sunlight there was highly limited. The good news was that we got to watch the pastel streaks of sunrise even when we slept in and we felt like we were cool/staying out late because 'out past dark' meant being out until after 6:00p.m.. Therefore, we got a ton of sleep even though we were up before and after the sun.
- Iceland is the best kept secret travel destination. Maybe it's because there aren't famous landmarks like Paris and other big European cities have? Especially now in the cold, there were no Americans. We did meet a lot of nice British people on tours, in restaurants, and in our hostel (more on the hostel when I post pictures). Kat and I had all six beds to ourselves for the first two nights before some very nice English people moved in.
- The answer to the above point may be that the exchange rate sucks a lot.
- When Kat and I left the hostel on Thursday morning, we were supposed to catch a bus bright and early, because that's how these cheapy flights tend to go. Unfortunately, the sun thing was a bit of a hinderance in that case. It was early, but definitely not bright, so sleeping through the bus felt normal when my alarm didn't go off. We still made it to the gate with time to spare, which was a pleasant surprise when we already thought we'd have to rush with the bus an hour earlier. And THAT'S why you always leave
During Londra** Round 2, Kat, Nikki (Scripps), and I stayed with Nikki's friend/former soccer coach in a real adult human apartment. We did a lot of the classics, such as the Changing of the Guard and the major museums. One thing I notice/admire about the English, at least in London, is that they collectively present as elegant and bright. They strike me as a generally more educated population than those I encounter in American public spaces. That could just be the Anglophilia speaking, and I'm not necessarily saying they are more intelligent, but their accents, vocabulary, and mannerisms come off that way to me. For example, the children in the museums all seemed more inquisitive than I've encountered in the States. Also, reading. Everywhere, people are reading. Print journalism doesn't appear to be dying at all in London, where more than half of every train and bus contains people of all sorts studying newspapers.
I'd like to live in London for some extended period of time in my life, partially just to see if I'd ever stop being embarrassingly enchanted by every little thing the British do. Preferably in that situation I would be making my money in GBP because, again, that exchange rate is rough man. I'm pretty sure Europe is just paying the value of the paper itself at this point.
Really in its entirety, the trip was grand (Kat tells me this is how they describe everything in Ireland). London is probably my favo(u)rite city in the world and there's nothing like it at Christmastime. Attaching that to Iceland, the world's #1 Worst Place to Be Blind, made for one of the best weeks ever. Hopefully that magic will push me through the final exam stress that's looming as I type.
*Am I the only one confused about why we don't universally refer to cities by the names they have in their own countries?
**Further, is the inconsistency of the changes not confusing? Roma's too hard to say, but Reykjavik's good to go? I just want to understand.****
***On the way to London, I got through security before 7:30a.m. and my flight boarded past 10... I was seriously the only passenger in the entire airport for awhile. It was bizarre, but good for snoozing. The weirdest part of that check in was when the passport review lady made me wind through an incredibly long maze of those line separator things by myself. We made awkward eye contact (I thought it was awk; she didn't seem to) the entire time. Here. To give you an idea:
[ ▲ ] <- This is the airport lady at her little fake mahogany desk
============== / / and her face is like, ◕‿◕
\ \===========================
============================/ /
\ \===========================
============================/ /
\ \==================△======== <- Meanwhile, there I am ~1 min into the labyrinth
============================/ / and my face is something like, (-___-)
\ \================
\ \
\ \
That was a lot more detail than I was planning to give for the story and a lot more Asian than I was planning to be with the emotional descriptions. Anyway. Work time. Ehhhhhhh
Merry almost Christmas,
Lauren
****Apologies if the asterisk keys are hard to follow
Thursday, September 6, 2012
I'm here!
Since I arrived three nights ago, I've been meaning to post on here and/or send anyone a message over 200 characters in length, but I've been busy with orientation business and settling in! However, I realized that an actually existant lame post is better than the idea of an excellent, long one. So here this is.
I'm really happy to be in Bologna! Occasionally over the summer, there was the concern that I would be essentially repeating Rome/ there was no point in studying abroad twice, but that concern is out the window*. My Bologna experience has been and will be exponentially better than Rome for many reasons. Rome is amazing, but is like the tourist capital of the world. There are probably real statistics to back that up. Anyway, that caused me to feel like an awe-struck tourist for four months, whereas I already feel like I can make Bologna a temporary home. Not only is it smaller, therefore possible to grasp (i.e. geographically), it has a completely different atmosphere. Bologna is the closest thing this country has to a college town, and feels to me like the Oxford of Italy, which I'm obviously enjoying.
For the most part, people in Bologna will not try to speak English with Americans, the way Romans do. Hearing Italian all day long, including in class and in my apartment, better mean that I get awesome at it.
I really like my roommates, Alessia, Francesco, and Mara. They may think I'm weird because, due to limited speaking abilities, I talk about food 80% of the time and begin 50% of my sentences with "I want..." (there's obviously an overlap). Also they pass my room a lot when I'm in here, looking sweaty/exhausted and eating leftover plane trail mix alone, so I guess there are valid reasons to be weirded out. Plus they may or may not be aware that I've been using a washcloth as my bath towel... whatever, packing's hard and I haven't had time to do real shopping.
My language partner, Irene, is also super nice. Now she definitely thinks I'm a zombie, as I met her when I was extremely jet lagged. I know this because she recently asked me if I was feeling better, which was kind of awkward because I wasn't ill. By the way, I'm still jet lagged and think it's all of the times all of the time.
There are only nine other kids in the Brown program. I knew that was going to be great because it would make us close-knit or terrible because they would suck. Thank goodness it looks to be the former because that makes the difference between this being a fun experience or not. Apparently the number of students usually ranges between 10 and 20, but I'm glad we have the number we do because any more would make it hard for us to play all together, and the creation of sub-groups would ensue.
One of the biggest reliefs in my life is my single room**. Never underestimate the importance of a comfortable room. Being able to control my space, lights, and pajama options without worrying about other people has been lovely. Not to mention the fact that it's the largest room I've had in my life.
I'm going to wrap this up because I've probably lost all readers except for you, mom. Now that I've gotten some general things out of the way, I will hopefully post more interesting news soon!
A presto,
Lauren
*This window (sorry, I'm reposting from Instagram instead of taking 'real' pictures to look fondly upon as lifelong treasures):
**This room (sorry, reposting from Facebook instead of you know):
I'm really happy to be in Bologna! Occasionally over the summer, there was the concern that I would be essentially repeating Rome/ there was no point in studying abroad twice, but that concern is out the window*. My Bologna experience has been and will be exponentially better than Rome for many reasons. Rome is amazing, but is like the tourist capital of the world. There are probably real statistics to back that up. Anyway, that caused me to feel like an awe-struck tourist for four months, whereas I already feel like I can make Bologna a temporary home. Not only is it smaller, therefore possible to grasp (i.e. geographically), it has a completely different atmosphere. Bologna is the closest thing this country has to a college town, and feels to me like the Oxford of Italy, which I'm obviously enjoying.
For the most part, people in Bologna will not try to speak English with Americans, the way Romans do. Hearing Italian all day long, including in class and in my apartment, better mean that I get awesome at it.
I really like my roommates, Alessia, Francesco, and Mara. They may think I'm weird because, due to limited speaking abilities, I talk about food 80% of the time and begin 50% of my sentences with "I want..." (there's obviously an overlap). Also they pass my room a lot when I'm in here, looking sweaty/exhausted and eating leftover plane trail mix alone, so I guess there are valid reasons to be weirded out. Plus they may or may not be aware that I've been using a washcloth as my bath towel... whatever, packing's hard and I haven't had time to do real shopping.
My language partner, Irene, is also super nice. Now she definitely thinks I'm a zombie, as I met her when I was extremely jet lagged. I know this because she recently asked me if I was feeling better, which was kind of awkward because I wasn't ill. By the way, I'm still jet lagged and think it's all of the times all of the time.
There are only nine other kids in the Brown program. I knew that was going to be great because it would make us close-knit or terrible because they would suck. Thank goodness it looks to be the former because that makes the difference between this being a fun experience or not. Apparently the number of students usually ranges between 10 and 20, but I'm glad we have the number we do because any more would make it hard for us to play all together, and the creation of sub-groups would ensue.
One of the biggest reliefs in my life is my single room**. Never underestimate the importance of a comfortable room. Being able to control my space, lights, and pajama options without worrying about other people has been lovely. Not to mention the fact that it's the largest room I've had in my life.
I'm going to wrap this up because I've probably lost all readers except for you, mom. Now that I've gotten some general things out of the way, I will hopefully post more interesting news soon!
A presto,
Lauren
*This window (sorry, I'm reposting from Instagram instead of taking 'real' pictures to look fondly upon as lifelong treasures):
**This room (sorry, reposting from Facebook instead of you know):
Saturday, April 21, 2012
I haven't studied, abroad
Abroad, according to my experience and observations, students don't in fact study. My classes are 85% silliness. Before the end of the semester, I want to record one of my professors speaking because his accent is so ridiculously strong that, when combined with his bumbling/ frazzled nature, it's all anyone can do to keep a straight face in his company.
Some of my teachers (I can't call them professors) grade harshly on the one assignment that does come up every once in awhile, however, which isn't fair. I think that one of my professors only gave Bs on the midterm because she wanted her course to appear challenging. Sorry this is starting to sound mean, but my point is, academics for me this semester = not too enriching.
This said, I love my internship. I haven't talked about that and it deserves attention. I work for the Rome Independent Film Festival. It is one of the best parts, certainly the most unique, of my time abroad.
It's a small office in a really nice part of Rome where everyone acts like family.
When I work during lunchtime, they either take me out to eat or the festival director cooks gnocchi for us all to eat around the kitchen table.
They're extremely patient with my Italian and encouraging in general. The women are all beautiful and kind and meet all of the positive stereotypes of a European/ Italian (i.e. they weigh less than the mounds pasta they inhale).
Going out to lunch with them makes me feel as out of place and simultaneously magnificent as a freshman sitting at the cool table, except more so.
The awards show was at a club last night. Their car was full going home, so one lady found a friend to take her home so that I could get a ride back.
They bought me pizza from the 24 hour bakery on the way home.
They let me hang around with their group all night at the show.
Even though I kept obnoxiously asking what was going on and apologizing for the gaps in my Italian, IT WAS AS IF I WAS ONE OF THEM.
I generally don't like to go out late, but I will if being out is fun enough (Madrid was). Last night was the first time I was out supah late in Rome because typically IES kids are just going to American bars in the center of the city, thus no thanks. Last night, I didn't get back until 3:30 and enjoyed myself the whole time because we were at a really authentic Italian place with cool people. I met two Erasmus students, one from Istanbul and one from Germany, that I hope to hang out with again.
Basically, as if it's not evident, studying is the least important part of studying abroad. That may change when I am at a real university in the fall, but for now, the best parts of my time here aren't related to any of my classes or my friends from IES-- minus Carolina, the Italian girl I live with, who remains perfect. I plan to stay in touch with Carolina forever, so between her and the internship ladies, I've made some Italian friends. Unfortunately, Italian men creep me out for the most part, so England would have been the way to go had I been selecting based on husband-seeking opportunities. But alas, I would have chosen Ben's Cookies over humans every day anyway.
I already know I'm going to London when I'm abroad in the fall because Stephen Fry is performing as Malvolio at the Globe. Be still my beating heart.
Wait for me, Ben's Cookies!
Some of my teachers (I can't call them professors) grade harshly on the one assignment that does come up every once in awhile, however, which isn't fair. I think that one of my professors only gave Bs on the midterm because she wanted her course to appear challenging. Sorry this is starting to sound mean, but my point is, academics for me this semester = not too enriching.
This said, I love my internship. I haven't talked about that and it deserves attention. I work for the Rome Independent Film Festival. It is one of the best parts, certainly the most unique, of my time abroad.
It's a small office in a really nice part of Rome where everyone acts like family.
When I work during lunchtime, they either take me out to eat or the festival director cooks gnocchi for us all to eat around the kitchen table.
They're extremely patient with my Italian and encouraging in general. The women are all beautiful and kind and meet all of the positive stereotypes of a European/ Italian (i.e. they weigh less than the mounds pasta they inhale).
Going out to lunch with them makes me feel as out of place and simultaneously magnificent as a freshman sitting at the cool table, except more so.
The awards show was at a club last night. Their car was full going home, so one lady found a friend to take her home so that I could get a ride back.
They bought me pizza from the 24 hour bakery on the way home.
They let me hang around with their group all night at the show.
Even though I kept obnoxiously asking what was going on and apologizing for the gaps in my Italian, IT WAS AS IF I WAS ONE OF THEM.
I generally don't like to go out late, but I will if being out is fun enough (Madrid was). Last night was the first time I was out supah late in Rome because typically IES kids are just going to American bars in the center of the city, thus no thanks. Last night, I didn't get back until 3:30 and enjoyed myself the whole time because we were at a really authentic Italian place with cool people. I met two Erasmus students, one from Istanbul and one from Germany, that I hope to hang out with again.
Basically, as if it's not evident, studying is the least important part of studying abroad. That may change when I am at a real university in the fall, but for now, the best parts of my time here aren't related to any of my classes or my friends from IES-- minus Carolina, the Italian girl I live with, who remains perfect. I plan to stay in touch with Carolina forever, so between her and the internship ladies, I've made some Italian friends. Unfortunately, Italian men creep me out for the most part, so England would have been the way to go had I been selecting based on husband-seeking opportunities. But alas, I would have chosen Ben's Cookies over humans every day anyway.
I already know I'm going to London when I'm abroad in the fall because Stephen Fry is performing as Malvolio at the Globe. Be still my beating heart.
Wait for me, Ben's Cookies!
My Bologna has a second name, it's I.T.A.L.Y.
My continued study abroad plans have been confirmed long enough that it's time I spread the news. I will be returning to Italy to study abroad for another semester in the fall.
I'll have a single apartment in Bologna and will take classes at the University of Bologna through Brown.
Part of why I initially decided to study abroad as a sophomore was to allow for this possibility. I wanted to go to Spain, but the abroad office suggested I return to Italy- a plan that I'm now very pleased with. (Sorry to end that on a preposition, but try typing "a plan with which I am very pleased" and see how unnatural it feels.) I'm happy because: I am already familiarish with Italian culture, I'll keep improving my Italian language abilities, and I will keep checking cities off of my Euro bucket list, which grows ever longer. I'm sad because: I miss Claremont/Claremont friends.
It was tough to confirm this decision knowing I wouldn't see some people for over a year, but distance makes the heart grow fonder. Getting away from Scripps this semester has made me appreciate it in ways I couldn't/ wouldn't have had I stayed. A girl in Madrid on her second semester abroad told me that she wanted to really miss her college and then return loving it. I feel that my three semesters back at Scripps will be greatly improved following two semesters abroad.
Anyway, a bunch of my friends will be also abroad in the fall. (Suite mates: could you please remind me who is fall and who is spring?)
This spring break taught me that sometimes it's better to travel with people I know, rather than holding myself responsible for making new friends whenever possible. Traveling with kids on my Rome program is fun, but less comfortable, i.e. involves a lot of "how many siblings do you have"s and "are you sure you don't mind eating there? it doesn't seem like you really want to"s.
Knowing I get to come back to Italy is easing the anxiety of moving back. Spring is here in her fullest glory, making the thought of leaving extra unappealing. There was an awkward lull in the middle of the program between the excitement of arrival and the realization of the end but, recently, the last phase has given me a renewed gratitude for my surroundings.
So this is perfect. I get to go back to LA, see friends, eat Mexican until I bleed salsa, spend my fall flex dollars*, then come back to frolic once more + study at the oldest university in Europe.
Yay!
*your meal plan doesn't know you're abroad!! if you're leaving and can't make it to campus, give someone the gift of your card number/ the ability to buy every Naked juice at the Coop Store!
I'll have a single apartment in Bologna and will take classes at the University of Bologna through Brown.
Part of why I initially decided to study abroad as a sophomore was to allow for this possibility. I wanted to go to Spain, but the abroad office suggested I return to Italy- a plan that I'm now very pleased with. (Sorry to end that on a preposition, but try typing "a plan with which I am very pleased" and see how unnatural it feels.) I'm happy because: I am already familiarish with Italian culture, I'll keep improving my Italian language abilities, and I will keep checking cities off of my Euro bucket list, which grows ever longer. I'm sad because: I miss Claremont/Claremont friends.
It was tough to confirm this decision knowing I wouldn't see some people for over a year, but distance makes the heart grow fonder. Getting away from Scripps this semester has made me appreciate it in ways I couldn't/ wouldn't have had I stayed. A girl in Madrid on her second semester abroad told me that she wanted to really miss her college and then return loving it. I feel that my three semesters back at Scripps will be greatly improved following two semesters abroad.
Anyway, a bunch of my friends will be also abroad in the fall. (Suite mates: could you please remind me who is fall and who is spring?)
This spring break taught me that sometimes it's better to travel with people I know, rather than holding myself responsible for making new friends whenever possible. Traveling with kids on my Rome program is fun, but less comfortable, i.e. involves a lot of "how many siblings do you have"s and "are you sure you don't mind eating there? it doesn't seem like you really want to"s.
Knowing I get to come back to Italy is easing the anxiety of moving back. Spring is here in her fullest glory, making the thought of leaving extra unappealing. There was an awkward lull in the middle of the program between the excitement of arrival and the realization of the end but, recently, the last phase has given me a renewed gratitude for my surroundings.
So this is perfect. I get to go back to LA, see friends, eat Mexican until I bleed salsa, spend my fall flex dollars*, then come back to frolic once more + study at the oldest university in Europe.
Yay!
*your meal plan doesn't know you're abroad!! if you're leaving and can't make it to campus, give someone the gift of your card number/ the ability to buy every Naked juice at the Coop Store!
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
chugga chooo
I wish to take this opportunity to rave about trains because
I am currently on one and because every time is a good time for train talk. By
the way, I almost made he title of this post “Chugga choo choo- it’s my Train
of Thought!”, but I did some really ashamed backspacing, as even I found that
to be too much.
On March 30th, I took a plane to Paris from Rome. Planes, I think we can agree, are basically
always terrible. If you have ever had the displeasure of flying Ryanair, then
you especially know how bad planes can be. If you’ve never flown Ryanair,
congratulations.
If someone ever
tells you they saw a celebrity on his or her Ryanair flight, that person is
lying to you, because no one with a real adult budget would enter the tin foil stress generator that is a Ryanair
aircraft. I could go on (there aren’t reserved seats, passengers often applaud
upon landing, I once saw a man tear the wheels off of his suitcase in order to
meet the unacceptably strict size requirements, etc.), but it’s time to talk
about trains.
Since my plane to Paris, all of my travels around France and
Switzerland have been by train. Currently, I am looking at beautiful mountain
landscapes, I have my legs crossed, my computer is plugged into a socket, and yet
I feel old-fashioned. Trains.
I know it seems like I’m going overboard with the affection,
but I have such an abundance of train love, I need to share some of it with the
world you guys.
I was in Paris, then Geneva, then a little city called Neuchâtel,
then a littler village called Grimentz in the Alps, and now I am going back to
Paris. I had a day to kill between the Alps and Madrid. After considering my
fairly restricted options (given time and geography), I decided to spend
tomorrow alone in the Louvre. I went to a museum when I was by myself in Spain
(Barcealonea) and that was enjoyable.
Museums give everyone the opportunity to feel graceful- probably due to how
slowly one moves. A museum has the calming effect of a bookstore, except it’s
better because you don’t have to deal with employees asking if you need help or
telling you that those chairs and for the children, could you please decide
what to purchase and put your shoes back on.
The museum in Barelona wasn’t even great because modern art
sucks, in my (correct) opinion. Tomorrow should be a thousand times better. I
should be napping now so I can get as much as possible out of my field trip,
but I am serious- I don’t want to miss a minute of this train ride. I’m now two
for two on having an open seat next to me during international train rides. Well,
there was an old man who was technically in the seat next to me from France
-> Geneva, but he spent the entire
ride in the dining car. I literally became concerned about his health and
considered telling someone to check the bathrooms, but there he was at the bar,
munchin’ on croissants and lovin’ trainlife.
It’s been a long-time concern of mine that, when aliens
first get a look at Earth, they’ll zoom in on an American airport, thus getting the worst possible view of
mankind. Even if you’re not flying Ryanair, the only positive thing about
airports is that they make you feel better about yourself. Travelers used to
dress up and now I sometimes wonder if people intentionally look disgusting as
an F.U. to airport security. Like saying- go ahead and frisk me. You get to
touch my oldest, cheeto-stained track pants.
So, have fun feeling dehydrated yet sweaty, airplane
passengers. (In denial that this group includes me again on Sunday.)
WAaaaaiit really quickly- a guy checking my ticket just
asked me how old I am and I said twenty because I am twenty and now I am
freaking out because THAT SOUNDS OLD. What if he was asking because he thought
I was a 39-year-old trying to get the student rate! Ehhhhhhhhh. Okayokay back
to things.
After I return to Rome on Sunday, I’ll be swamped with work
that I should have been doing on break, but then I will do an account of Paris,
Switzerland, and Madrid. Plus I’ll have pictures uploaded.
Until then, I probably love you! (Probably because there’s a
small chance you’re not Shayda or Erin or someone else who’s told me you read
this.)
Bye!
Hang on. I have to bring you back to my train journey one
last time because it is now raining on fields of yellow flowers outside. Also,
I went to get some chocolate and can only describe walking into other train
cars as seeing who is in other rooms at a party. And the other people at the
party are Swiss businessmen making powerpoints.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Eataly and Beyond
Chapter 1: Barthelona, Ethpania (March 1 - 4)
I'm too lazy to read my last post to remember where I left off, but I'm pretty sure it was way back in Barcelona.
Chapter 2: Mint Milano (March 9 - 10)
First of all, remember Mint Milanos? They aren't related to anything right now except that I went to Milan, but they deserve to be brought up. Why do they even make regular Milanos when there is a mint option? Do people buy those?
But yeah, I went to Milan!
There's this strange rivalry between Rome and Milan and people seem to either like one or the other. Milan is a faster paced and more modern, but I don't understand why the two are put in opposition with each other. They're just as much two different cities as two other different cities.
In spite of my affiliation with Rome, I liked Milan. I'm happy I'm studying/living in Rome though because there didn't seem to be all that much to do in Milan away from the main Duomo area.
Advice: If you are planning to go to Milan sometime in the next 43 years, book your Last Supper tickets now. I was literally ten feet from the thing and couldn't see it. I still don't understand. I googled really hard trying to find another way in and spent a few minutes very seriously considering trying to blend in with an elementary school group but, alas, failure.
However, no aesthetic experience could have been as divine as what happened in my mouth. Imagine the best ice cream you've ever had and then combine that with the most perfect chocolate taste you've ever encountered and then cry because nothing you could think of could touch the perfection of the following.
BEHOLD:
->
Chapter 3: Brussels (March 16 - 18)
Belgians are weird (i.e. they are more excited that their city boasts a peeing boy statue than the E.U.) and I like them because they stay up super late, just hanging around, and then sleep in.
Additionally, I like them because they eat waffles, fries, and chocolate all day. I thought that a city smelling of waffles could only exist in my dreams, but it's real!
P.S. Then we went here:
Chapter 4: Today (today)
I'm happy to have stayed in Rome this weekend, to relax and explore the city. Today, Carolina, Amanda and I went for a walk through various piazzas and open markets.
Spring is here and the tourists along with it. The atmosphere of the city has changed now that there are large bald men in shorts on every corner. I'm not complaining, as people watching is one of my favorite hobbies. And I find it oddly comforting to see Americans. Ugh look at me, starting a sentence with a conjunction. Allow me to apologize for my increasingly poor English communication skills. My Italian is barely improving, but I speak English like a foreigner, i.e. how many years do you have?
I finally took pictures with a real camera today, but it's going to be another two months before I figure out how to upload...
I'm too lazy to read my last post to remember where I left off, but I'm pretty sure it was way back in Barcelona.
 |
| ¡Oh my Gaudí! |
 |
| I do not know these people. |
 |
| If you looked up and spun a lil, it gave the effect of being underwater. |
 |
| I am not proud to admit that I almost cried when I saw Starbucks. |
 |
| I may have mentioned that the food in Spain was unimpressive. The McDonald's was the best I've ever had, though, so there's that. |
 |
| View from Park Güell (Tyra was here, Cycle 7) |
 |
| I bow to the gods of Architecture |
 |
| Just some crying cubist bible guys |
 |
| More importantly, ♪♫ I found health food in a Spanish place ♪♫ (you know the tune). I love all food, including healthy food. I was desperate for a weird vegan dish and green smoothie (not pictured, as was consumed before the flash could reach the glass). |
 |
| On the other side of the health spectrum, chocolate churros. |
 |
| Inappropriate enough to be shared. Where's the classiness, Barcelona? |
 |
| Also, THIS. These plane rides are doing wonders for my game skillz. At least I'm doing some sort of running abroad? :( |
Chapter 2: Mint Milano (March 9 - 10)
First of all, remember Mint Milanos? They aren't related to anything right now except that I went to Milan, but they deserve to be brought up. Why do they even make regular Milanos when there is a mint option? Do people buy those?
But yeah, I went to Milan!
There's this strange rivalry between Rome and Milan and people seem to either like one or the other. Milan is a faster paced and more modern, but I don't understand why the two are put in opposition with each other. They're just as much two different cities as two other different cities.
In spite of my affiliation with Rome, I liked Milan. I'm happy I'm studying/living in Rome though because there didn't seem to be all that much to do in Milan away from the main Duomo area.
Advice: If you are planning to go to Milan sometime in the next 43 years, book your Last Supper tickets now. I was literally ten feet from the thing and couldn't see it. I still don't understand. I googled really hard trying to find another way in and spent a few minutes very seriously considering trying to blend in with an elementary school group but, alas, failure.
However, no aesthetic experience could have been as divine as what happened in my mouth. Imagine the best ice cream you've ever had and then combine that with the most perfect chocolate taste you've ever encountered and then cry because nothing you could think of could touch the perfection of the following.
BEHOLD:
 |
| I like that random Jetson house chillin' between the monuments |
Chapter 3: Brussels (March 16 - 18)
Belgians are weird (i.e. they are more excited that their city boasts a peeing boy statue than the E.U.) and I like them because they stay up super late, just hanging around, and then sleep in.
Additionally, I like them because they eat waffles, fries, and chocolate all day. I thought that a city smelling of waffles could only exist in my dreams, but it's real!
 |
| Typical Belgian crowd/ my kind of folks |
 |
| Manneken Pis all dressed up as a military man! |
 |
| Inappropriate chocolate peeing boy-- one of manymanymany |
 |
| Weird dog |
 |
| Weird chairs |
 |
| Weird name for a restaurant |
 |
| Costume change! (Think about that there is at least one person in the world whose job is to change the clothing of a small, peeing statue) |
Chapter 4: Today (today)
I'm happy to have stayed in Rome this weekend, to relax and explore the city. Today, Carolina, Amanda and I went for a walk through various piazzas and open markets.
Spring is here and the tourists along with it. The atmosphere of the city has changed now that there are large bald men in shorts on every corner. I'm not complaining, as people watching is one of my favorite hobbies. And I find it oddly comforting to see Americans. Ugh look at me, starting a sentence with a conjunction. Allow me to apologize for my increasingly poor English communication skills. My Italian is barely improving, but I speak English like a foreigner, i.e. how many years do you have?
Monday, March 5, 2012
I saw an old man biking with a fat orange cat draped casually over his shoulder
I need to share this before I forget. Why Italy makes me happy #93138.
Rome Sweet Rome
Sometimes the best things in life are free because, sometimes, sandwiches are free.
On Thursday, my 9:30 a.m. field trip was cancelled because there was a public transportation strike. I found this out around 9:30 a.m. while feet away from the museum after walking (my feet away).
I tried getting on one of the few bus lines that was still running, but it was packed like a can of sardines and smelled worse. Tangent: I had the worst bus ride ever today where I sat in between two old men whose breath smelled like they drank too much coffee six years ago and hadn't gotten around to brushing their teeth yet. It also smelled like the outcome of drinking too much coffee. I won't go into detail there, but you probably know what I mean.
Wait what was a saying. Okay so, to prevent the day from getting really bad, I went into a book store (cue choir of angels). I will spare you the description of how my heart feels in the children's section of a bookstore and skip to the part where I bought the Italian versions of James and the Giant Peach (because it's at my baby level) and The Great Gatsby (because it's my favorite, of course). (((Do) I use) parenthes))(es) too much),)"))? Then I went to get a sandwich and the creepy guy gave it to me for free and it was a free sandwich, so I didn't even care if it was given out of creepiness. It's the culture here for guys to be creepy, therefore it's not anything to be concerned about because it's normal. For example, a guy asking me for directions last week turned into him trying to Vicky Cristina Barcelona me into going to Milan. Anyway, I was sitting on the ledge of a fountain eating a free sandwich in the piazza by my cancelled field trip on a perfect day weather-wise thinking, yeah this is good.
I don't know why I just typed that all of that, but I really don't want to delete it because it's already been written. Moving on.
That night I left for Barcelona.
Barcelona, quite frankly, was not as great of a city as I thought it would be. Maybe it's because I hyped it up too much by wanting to go there for literally the past ten years or because I have been too spoiled aesthetically living in Rome, but I have no desire to go back any time soon. This is strange because everyone I know who has been to Barcelona has told me that they loved it. Am I crazy! The food in Barcelona is awful. War Horse was boring. I don't understand the consensuses society is coming to without my input.
Don't get my wrong; I am extremely happy that I went to Barcelona. First of all, Gaudí was a genius. Second, Las Ramblas. Third, STARBUCKS. I'm not into Starbucks compared to Caribou and Coffee Bea, but I almost cried when I saw one in Spain because they do not exist in Italy. You'd think Starbucks would be all over in a city that prides itself on coffee but, if you think about it, the opposite makes way more sense.
As I've potentially already said, part of the value of living in Rome is how rah rah America it's making me. Similarly, Barcelona has made me appreciate aspects of Rome that I'd taken for granted. I even returned to my apartment with open arms after my first (last? please last) hostel stay. According to people with prior hostel experience, we were in a nice one, but I'm pretty sure "nice hostel" is an oxymoron. Hostels are so strange I can't even. The patrons of a hostel are more diverse than the Star Wars Cantina crew and the only thing more awkward that sitting in your shared room with all eight people in there is sitting in your shared room with one other person in there.
The only positive thing I have to mention about hostels is that they allow one to sleep on a top bunk, an experience not frequently offered to people over the age of nine. I genuinely enjoy top bunk, not only because it reminds me of summer camp. Top bunks are like window seats; you may wake other people up when you go to the bathroom, but it doesn't matter, because you're cozy and nobody wakes you up.
Oh back to Starbucks super fast: we ran into another girl from IES there on the last day and she came with us to the airport. Also, a girl who graduated from Scripps last year (lives in Spain now) visited Rome a few weeks ago and happened to be staying ~a 5 minute walk from me. Most insane though is that a girl with whom I was a Page at the MN State Capitol in high school is living in Rome only a few blocks away from me.
Barcelona redeemed itself some on the last day when we went to the beach. I'm generally not a beach person, but it was the best part of the city. I liked it a lot. The vibrancy that I'd expected to be everywhere in Barcelona was at the beach, where there were farmer's market style rows of tents and people rollerblading by small seafood restaurants and chocolate-covered churro stands (yeah).
I hadn't expected Catalan to be as present as it was. It was odd enough trying to remember Spanish, a depressingly difficult task. The only phrase I said with any rapidity in Spanish was "I'm sorry; I study in Rome now and it is difficult to separate Spanish from Italian" because I said it so many times. Catalan doesn't look real. It contains a lot of "x"s and uses words like "supermercat." Like, you know that's another supermarket in another language, but your brain is wondering if that's Spanish that you've forgotten, while additionally conjuring an image of a super meerkat. Confusing things like that constantly.
Barcelona summary: very glad I went. Not as hoppin' as I wanted it to be. Bland food. Worth it for Gaudí. If you liked War Horse and generally agree with other humans, you'll probably like it. Not my favorite.
In less surprising news: I'm still eating like a tapering athlete. Even more so after craving it over the weekend. Gabrielle made too much pasta a bit ago and he just called me in to clean up. You can't get doggie bags in Italy, so I am the dad who eats everyone's leftovers. For how long is this acceptable?
I'm sleepy. More and pictures to come.
Bona Nit! <--Good night in Catalan. Do you see what I'm saying??
On Thursday, my 9:30 a.m. field trip was cancelled because there was a public transportation strike. I found this out around 9:30 a.m. while feet away from the museum after walking (my feet away).
I tried getting on one of the few bus lines that was still running, but it was packed like a can of sardines and smelled worse. Tangent: I had the worst bus ride ever today where I sat in between two old men whose breath smelled like they drank too much coffee six years ago and hadn't gotten around to brushing their teeth yet. It also smelled like the outcome of drinking too much coffee. I won't go into detail there, but you probably know what I mean.
Wait what was a saying. Okay so, to prevent the day from getting really bad, I went into a book store (cue choir of angels). I will spare you the description of how my heart feels in the children's section of a bookstore and skip to the part where I bought the Italian versions of James and the Giant Peach (because it's at my baby level) and The Great Gatsby (because it's my favorite, of course). (((Do) I use) parenthes))(es) too much),)"))? Then I went to get a sandwich and the creepy guy gave it to me for free and it was a free sandwich, so I didn't even care if it was given out of creepiness. It's the culture here for guys to be creepy, therefore it's not anything to be concerned about because it's normal. For example, a guy asking me for directions last week turned into him trying to Vicky Cristina Barcelona me into going to Milan. Anyway, I was sitting on the ledge of a fountain eating a free sandwich in the piazza by my cancelled field trip on a perfect day weather-wise thinking, yeah this is good.
I don't know why I just typed that all of that, but I really don't want to delete it because it's already been written. Moving on.
That night I left for Barcelona.
Barcelona, quite frankly, was not as great of a city as I thought it would be. Maybe it's because I hyped it up too much by wanting to go there for literally the past ten years or because I have been too spoiled aesthetically living in Rome, but I have no desire to go back any time soon. This is strange because everyone I know who has been to Barcelona has told me that they loved it. Am I crazy! The food in Barcelona is awful. War Horse was boring. I don't understand the consensuses society is coming to without my input.
Don't get my wrong; I am extremely happy that I went to Barcelona. First of all, Gaudí was a genius. Second, Las Ramblas. Third, STARBUCKS. I'm not into Starbucks compared to Caribou and Coffee Bea, but I almost cried when I saw one in Spain because they do not exist in Italy. You'd think Starbucks would be all over in a city that prides itself on coffee but, if you think about it, the opposite makes way more sense.
As I've potentially already said, part of the value of living in Rome is how rah rah America it's making me. Similarly, Barcelona has made me appreciate aspects of Rome that I'd taken for granted. I even returned to my apartment with open arms after my first (last? please last) hostel stay. According to people with prior hostel experience, we were in a nice one, but I'm pretty sure "nice hostel" is an oxymoron. Hostels are so strange I can't even. The patrons of a hostel are more diverse than the Star Wars Cantina crew and the only thing more awkward that sitting in your shared room with all eight people in there is sitting in your shared room with one other person in there.
The only positive thing I have to mention about hostels is that they allow one to sleep on a top bunk, an experience not frequently offered to people over the age of nine. I genuinely enjoy top bunk, not only because it reminds me of summer camp. Top bunks are like window seats; you may wake other people up when you go to the bathroom, but it doesn't matter, because you're cozy and nobody wakes you up.
Oh back to Starbucks super fast: we ran into another girl from IES there on the last day and she came with us to the airport. Also, a girl who graduated from Scripps last year (lives in Spain now) visited Rome a few weeks ago and happened to be staying ~a 5 minute walk from me. Most insane though is that a girl with whom I was a Page at the MN State Capitol in high school is living in Rome only a few blocks away from me.
Barcelona redeemed itself some on the last day when we went to the beach. I'm generally not a beach person, but it was the best part of the city. I liked it a lot. The vibrancy that I'd expected to be everywhere in Barcelona was at the beach, where there were farmer's market style rows of tents and people rollerblading by small seafood restaurants and chocolate-covered churro stands (yeah).
I hadn't expected Catalan to be as present as it was. It was odd enough trying to remember Spanish, a depressingly difficult task. The only phrase I said with any rapidity in Spanish was "I'm sorry; I study in Rome now and it is difficult to separate Spanish from Italian" because I said it so many times. Catalan doesn't look real. It contains a lot of "x"s and uses words like "supermercat." Like, you know that's another supermarket in another language, but your brain is wondering if that's Spanish that you've forgotten, while additionally conjuring an image of a super meerkat. Confusing things like that constantly.
Barcelona summary: very glad I went. Not as hoppin' as I wanted it to be. Bland food. Worth it for Gaudí. If you liked War Horse and generally agree with other humans, you'll probably like it. Not my favorite.
In less surprising news: I'm still eating like a tapering athlete. Even more so after craving it over the weekend. Gabrielle made too much pasta a bit ago and he just called me in to clean up. You can't get doggie bags in Italy, so I am the dad who eats everyone's leftovers. For how long is this acceptable?
I'm sleepy. More and pictures to come.
Bona Nit! <--Good night in Catalan. Do you see what I'm saying??
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Italian Men Wear Speedos to Yoga
The most important bit of information is in the title. I went to a yoga class. I went to a bikram yoga class. It seemed like a good idea, seeing as I hadn't gotten any exercise since arriving.
Hah.
First of all, I tried to select a mat location at the very back of the class, but it turned out to be the very front. (Awkward thing #1.) This ruined my plan of figuring out what was going on by watching others, as all others were behind me.
I thought that it would be taught in the international yoga language, but it was definitely taught in Italian, of which I still have a limited knowledge. (Awkward thing #2.) Is bikram that much different than regular yoga or is it because I'm in Italy? Either way, weird. For example, no downward dog? Also, they did shavasana more than a dozen times. Every time, I thought the class was over and got all settled in (awkward things #41-58).
The class smelled like sweat, as expected, but it additionally spelled faintly like food. How is that possible? I'm not kidding; I think Italians sweat olive oil.
My issue now is the fact that I paid 20 euro for 20 days because I figured it would be 4 euro/class if I went five times. Too bad I'd rather staple the class schedule to my forehead than go that frequently.
In happier news, I have essentially mastered the bus system. My laziness beat my directional incompetence and now I can bus around the city like a pro. It's a pretty poorly operating system regardless of my abilities. Several times I've waited at a stop forever, only to watch it pass the second I leave, like Spongebob at Glove World. Please know that reference.
Still, after making mistakes that include waiting for a night bus in the middle of the day and taking the correct line in the opposite direction, I feel that I more or less know what I'm doing. Check.
I've even given Italians directions on numerous occasions! If the directions were wrong, that only made me more Italian.
This new skill has developed just in time because my internship starts tomorrow. I was offered an internship at the Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Moderna, a reeeally beautiful place to go to work, but I decided to intern for the Rome Independent Film Festival. There, I'll have a diverse set of tasks that should be interesting/enjoyable. It only helped my decision that the guy I interviewed with was named Fabrizio. I have to get at least 300 Italian points for knowing a Fabrizio.
I'm going to kill everyone
I GIVE UP ON FORMATTING THE PICTURES IN THE LAST POST. I'm not trying to do anything fancy. I just want them to look normal. Come on blogspot, help an old lady out.
Sì, Assisi
Last Saturday, I went to Assisi with four other kids. Here is what I can recall (I even procrastinate on blog writing):
It is a gorgeous medieval town that smells like wood-burning stoves and forests post-rain. In my experience thus far, every city in Italy has a completely unique personality. While I am looking forward to traveling outside of Italy in the next few weeks, there's plenty to admire within the country.
Lovely, quaint little Assisi only has a day's worth of sites, but what a nice day! My eating highlights were gnocchi stuffed with quail and this cannolo:
It is a gorgeous medieval town that smells like wood-burning stoves and forests post-rain. In my experience thus far, every city in Italy has a completely unique personality. While I am looking forward to traveling outside of Italy in the next few weeks, there's plenty to admire within the country.
Lovely, quaint little Assisi only has a day's worth of sites, but what a nice day! My eating highlights were gnocchi stuffed with quail and this cannolo:
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| Churches abound |
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| It was beautiful at night. You're going to have to take my word. Still waiting for the camera battery that was shipped two weeks ago to arrive. |
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Pictures: Attempt 2
Naples:
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| Pretty views from the train. |
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| Awh doggie |
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| Ew cats |
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| Carnevale dessert |
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| I finished my entire pizza before assisting others. |
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| Pitzer study abroad? |
Friday:
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| This isn't relevant, but I had to screen cap it. I wasn't aware that full jet pack flights were available in real life. |
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