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!

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!

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 30^th, 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. 

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.

¡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)

 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 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??

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.