Three days until spring break, six weeks of school left, and only ten until my flight home…
Today I lost myself in painting class...there’s something about painting that I love. I have my off days, but today I didn’t want to leave. Today I felt like I could stay in there all day. But I had to take my Art and Architecture midterm which ended up being all essays, which kind of destroyed my good mood, but I think I did pretty well. Grace’s Italian ragazzo (boyfriend) was at our apartment when I came back today and he was making fun of our food, so we got him to make us dinner…spaghetti of course. Nothing special, but it was good and probably had a couple cups of olive oil in it. They love their olive oil. I told him I have to make dinner Tuesday night for Carly and Alyson because they fed me last weekend, so he’s going to take me shopping and help me cook for them. I can’t tell if this is out of pity or if he really wants to teach us.
Grace, Hsuan Hsuan, Emily, and I met Francesco and some other Italian guys at a cinema tonight for a community production of Grease. In Italian. If I hadn’t seen Grease before I would have been lost, but it was cute. The cinema was packed so we stood and watched. I think you could kind of compare it to our spring musical at home. We knew a couple of the guys in the play, including Danny; Macerata is getting smaller…
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
11.02.10
So I’ve been sick since we got back from Venice…I think it’s just a cold from running around in the rain on Friday night when we first got to Venice and were too excited to care that it was freezing out and the rain soaked through our clothes. I can’t stop coughing and it echoes in our classroom in AHA because the ceilings are so high. I went to the farmacia today and bought cough syrup, and thanks to my Italian phrase book, I think I bought the non-drowsy kind. It’s like a 5 minute walk from my apartment, close to the grocery store I usually go to. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned what the shopping or stores are like. Walking back just a little bit ago from picking up some food for dinner, I noticed how weird it is to see a barber shop right next to a cheese and meat store next to a clothing store…and it goes on and on. And then you have your shops just for socks and tights. Sock shops. I wonder what a local would think if I took them to a Walmart. They’d probably be horrified.
When I go into a store and buy something and they ask me something, I usually say yes and hope I didn’t just agree to buy the whole store. That’s probably not the best way to respond…but usually they’re just asking if I want a plastic bag or something like that. I figure that out after I say yes. I went out with my tandem partner, Serena, Monday night. We ended up at the little café down the stairs next to AHA—not that you, reading this, know where that is…Anyway, she’s going to make me a certain kind of baked pasta and tiramisu. So I asked what kind of American food I could make her and she asked for chips…which I’ve never actually made. But she also asked for burritos-not really American, but they should be-so if you have a good recipe for burritos, please let me know!
When I go into a store and buy something and they ask me something, I usually say yes and hope I didn’t just agree to buy the whole store. That’s probably not the best way to respond…but usually they’re just asking if I want a plastic bag or something like that. I figure that out after I say yes. I went out with my tandem partner, Serena, Monday night. We ended up at the little café down the stairs next to AHA—not that you, reading this, know where that is…Anyway, she’s going to make me a certain kind of baked pasta and tiramisu. So I asked what kind of American food I could make her and she asked for chips…which I’ve never actually made. But she also asked for burritos-not really American, but they should be-so if you have a good recipe for burritos, please let me know!
09.02.10
Now I know why Italians do their shopping every day instead of stocking up like I’m used to doing at home—they have to lug everything they bought all the way back to their houses. And when you have to pay for grocery bags, you tend to overstuff your bag and pray it doesn’t burst before you reach home.
Italians love their umbrellas—or maybe they just hate getting wet. They even used them when it snowed a few days ago…ridiculous.
Italians love their umbrellas—or maybe they just hate getting wet. They even used them when it snowed a few days ago…ridiculous.
02.06.10
Grace is sick and needed a bathroom, so I figured I could write a little…
This morning we got up at 9 and are spending the whole morning trying to get to San Marco without a map….it’s fun really. We’re talking to random people we meet and getting lost in the winding, tourist-crawling streets of Venice. We made it across the Ponte Rialto (one of the main bridges that connects the two parts of the island together)..
…I know my way around part of Venice, and walked my feet off. I led the Olga and Ana – the Russians, Acha and Julia, the Israeli and the other American all the way to San Marco and back tonight. But by the time we got there no one was in San Marco-it’s amazing how so many people can clear out so quickly. Venice is different from what I remember, I saw it in a different way. And I passed by a few places I remember being in before…but this time I loved Venice for the people and for it’s deeper secrets. I loved seeing people from all over the world. And I loved just wandering the streets by myself, lost in the crowd. I was happy when I could speak a little Italian because it separated me from the thousands of other Americans there. Even hearing an Italian say “Prego” after I said “Scusi,” just made me feel like I blended in more. That and watching all the other tourists with their front backpacks, baseball caps, and maps stuck to their faces—that certainly helped.
I bought a black mask. You should have seen the costumes—gorgeous. The people dressed up in huge Renaissance ball gowns and walked around like royalty. The tourists followed them in a mob wherever they went and jumped over each other trying to snap pictures.
We went to the Peggy Guggenheim Museum on Sunday-it was nice to escape the crowds. We paid 7 euro for student passes and stayed until the museum closed. It was a small museum but I saw pieces I’d thought I’d only ever see in my art history class. I saw Giacometti, Picasso, Pollock, Brancusi, Brunescelli…I was so excited. We all hypothetically chose a piece to take home and I found Brancusi’s Bird in Space. We found a pizzeria Sunday night before we had to leave. The pizzas here are big but the crust is paper thin. I miss Chicago pizza.
On the train back home, Grace and I didn’t know we had to switch trains in Bologna, so we got kicked out of our compartment, but one of the boys assigned to our seat was nice and we sat and talked with him and his friend in the aisle. We all huddled on the floor and tried to sleep the rest of the way. We got back at 6am Monday morning and had class at 8:30.
This morning we got up at 9 and are spending the whole morning trying to get to San Marco without a map….it’s fun really. We’re talking to random people we meet and getting lost in the winding, tourist-crawling streets of Venice. We made it across the Ponte Rialto (one of the main bridges that connects the two parts of the island together)..
…I know my way around part of Venice, and walked my feet off. I led the Olga and Ana – the Russians, Acha and Julia, the Israeli and the other American all the way to San Marco and back tonight. But by the time we got there no one was in San Marco-it’s amazing how so many people can clear out so quickly. Venice is different from what I remember, I saw it in a different way. And I passed by a few places I remember being in before…but this time I loved Venice for the people and for it’s deeper secrets. I loved seeing people from all over the world. And I loved just wandering the streets by myself, lost in the crowd. I was happy when I could speak a little Italian because it separated me from the thousands of other Americans there. Even hearing an Italian say “Prego” after I said “Scusi,” just made me feel like I blended in more. That and watching all the other tourists with their front backpacks, baseball caps, and maps stuck to their faces—that certainly helped.
I bought a black mask. You should have seen the costumes—gorgeous. The people dressed up in huge Renaissance ball gowns and walked around like royalty. The tourists followed them in a mob wherever they went and jumped over each other trying to snap pictures.
We went to the Peggy Guggenheim Museum on Sunday-it was nice to escape the crowds. We paid 7 euro for student passes and stayed until the museum closed. It was a small museum but I saw pieces I’d thought I’d only ever see in my art history class. I saw Giacometti, Picasso, Pollock, Brancusi, Brunescelli…I was so excited. We all hypothetically chose a piece to take home and I found Brancusi’s Bird in Space. We found a pizzeria Sunday night before we had to leave. The pizzas here are big but the crust is paper thin. I miss Chicago pizza.
On the train back home, Grace and I didn’t know we had to switch trains in Bologna, so we got kicked out of our compartment, but one of the boys assigned to our seat was nice and we sat and talked with him and his friend in the aisle. We all huddled on the floor and tried to sleep the rest of the way. We got back at 6am Monday morning and had class at 8:30.
05.02.10
So we left the house 30 minutes ago and we’re sitting at the train station after we watched our train leave us…why does that sound familiar? Oh yes, because it’s happened before. We sort of left on time though, but a bunch of little things happened this morning that slowed us down, like Carly accidentally unzipping Grace’s bottom zipper on her backpack making everything fall out onto the sidewalk. We practically touched the doors when the train rolled out-the woman sitting inside just shook her head at us. Thanks for your help.
On the positive side, it’s that that cold out and our train is at 10:30, and we only validated one ticket. Alora…we’re catching a train to Civitanova and then waiting there for another hour. It’s funny how I don’t care.
Last night I back-packed through Macerata to Grace’s house on University night-when all the students are out. I got some funny looks. This pack might weigh more than I do…it’s giving my leg cramps.
The train rushes past the Adriatic coast, water as grey as the sky above it, its depth only given away by the subtlest movement, rolling, breathing like a wild beast. Frothy waves crash against rocks and caress the damp sand. Again and again.
Every place we see is different. Coastal apartments springing up in pastel colors, palm trees, rolling green hills in the mountains shadows, covered in snow. I can’t wait to see southern Italy.
We just passed through Padua. It’s dark and rainy now and probably cold out. Whenever we pass another train it sounds like a rock hit the window and we all jump. The train speeds by an inch away from us.
Well, where do I begin? I didn’t quite know what to expect, blindly following Grace on her crazy couch surfing adventure. We’re staying with a 40 year old bachelor, Luca, in almost the heart of Venice with 7 other girls. Luca’s an architect and restored his flat in Venice, which originally belonged to his grandparents. I think he said he usually rents out his flat to tourists and lives with his family in Verona. Anyway, the place was beautiful and clean. He was so meticulous, I felt like a slob. He made us pasta and risotto while we were there. There were three girls from Turkey, 2 Russians, a girl from Israel and a girl from California. On the day Grace and I left, two more girls came from Australia. His house was like a small melting pot. The Turkish girls made us Turkish coffee and brought Turkish delights. That Friday night Grace and I ran around the streets taking pictures. It was pouring and cold, but so beautiful.
Mi piaccono i vini rossi.
Nutella è una droga.
On the positive side, it’s that that cold out and our train is at 10:30, and we only validated one ticket. Alora…we’re catching a train to Civitanova and then waiting there for another hour. It’s funny how I don’t care.
Last night I back-packed through Macerata to Grace’s house on University night-when all the students are out. I got some funny looks. This pack might weigh more than I do…it’s giving my leg cramps.
The train rushes past the Adriatic coast, water as grey as the sky above it, its depth only given away by the subtlest movement, rolling, breathing like a wild beast. Frothy waves crash against rocks and caress the damp sand. Again and again.
Every place we see is different. Coastal apartments springing up in pastel colors, palm trees, rolling green hills in the mountains shadows, covered in snow. I can’t wait to see southern Italy.
We just passed through Padua. It’s dark and rainy now and probably cold out. Whenever we pass another train it sounds like a rock hit the window and we all jump. The train speeds by an inch away from us.
Well, where do I begin? I didn’t quite know what to expect, blindly following Grace on her crazy couch surfing adventure. We’re staying with a 40 year old bachelor, Luca, in almost the heart of Venice with 7 other girls. Luca’s an architect and restored his flat in Venice, which originally belonged to his grandparents. I think he said he usually rents out his flat to tourists and lives with his family in Verona. Anyway, the place was beautiful and clean. He was so meticulous, I felt like a slob. He made us pasta and risotto while we were there. There were three girls from Turkey, 2 Russians, a girl from Israel and a girl from California. On the day Grace and I left, two more girls came from Australia. His house was like a small melting pot. The Turkish girls made us Turkish coffee and brought Turkish delights. That Friday night Grace and I ran around the streets taking pictures. It was pouring and cold, but so beautiful.
Mi piaccono i vini rossi.
Nutella è una droga.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
04.02.10
Allora...I'm on three hours of sleep. But getting used to it. Last night all of us went out to 4Porte, the bar down the street, again, with our amici italiani. Let's just say in the states, it would never get that that rowdy (people dancing on tables, that kind of rowdy)...Everyone called us the "exchange students." And we made the stupidest mistake of taking on our italian friends in a soccer match next week...it'll be ugly.
It's beginning to get warmer...and sunny! I went for a short run yesterday, all ramps and stairs. I'm so out of shape.
We leave for Venice tomorrow morning, so I'll probably write again on Sunday to tell all about it. Carnivale is the equivalent to our Mardi Gras in Italy. We're staying in a house right in the city!
Now I need to finish homework...Italy is so distracting.
Ciao for now.
It's beginning to get warmer...and sunny! I went for a short run yesterday, all ramps and stairs. I'm so out of shape.
We leave for Venice tomorrow morning, so I'll probably write again on Sunday to tell all about it. Carnivale is the equivalent to our Mardi Gras in Italy. We're staying in a house right in the city!
Now I need to finish homework...Italy is so distracting.
Ciao for now.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
02.02.10
This is the view from our window in the morning...the sunsets are pretty sweet too.
I made banana bread tonight. Pane di banana in italiano…or something like that. Some people can eat spaghetti for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but I’m not one of those people...I love Italian food, but I wanted something comforting.
Last night after taking a trip to Cityper, basically a mall with a supermarket attached, I didn’t get home until late and my apartment was crowded, and there was no room in the kitchen for the dinner I was going to cook so I made a sandwich and tried to do some homework…until a few Italian guys came over and I realized homework was pointless…we ended up going to 4Port-the bar down the street. Weekdays aren’t really any different than weekends for Italians but most go out Wednesdays and Thursdays. Anyway, it was worth being dead tired today..
How long have we been here now? Three weeks? I think the initial euphoria has worn off and sometimes I forget I’m even in Italy.
Random fact: It’s bad luck to have a dinner party for 13 people because the Last Supper only included 12. Italians take this very seriously…there are 13 of us in the program. So I guess we shouldn’t plan a dinner for just us.
After the program’s over, I’m headed to France with Alyson. She has family there. Bonjour Paris.
02/01/10
Grace and I just bought our train tickets for Venezia this weekend. I think we made the clerk kind of mad, because first Grace accidentally bought a ticket to Florence and then I had to ask for regional tickets because the cost for the regular ones came out to like 72 euro for the two of us. Regionale tickets are cheaper, but are slower I think. I think the train station in Venice is on the mainland, so we’ll have to take the ferry. I guess we’ll see where we end up when we get there…
Grace said there are other girls staying at the house we’re at..two from Russia and two from Turkey I think? Crazy weekend…I saw pictures of Carnivale online. Some people go all out and dress head to toe, in ball gowns and masks--Renaissance style. I just want a mask, but I heard some of the masks there were worth thousands of dollars…
I tried to make espresso with the little stove top kettle in our apartment…it came out like water. Hot chocolate for me.
Italians always talk like they’re arguing. They might only be telling each other what they ate for breakfast, but you think something more is happening because they’re practically yelling at each other…They know this too. And they think you’re French if you talk quietly.
She symbolizes a season..I think summer. I found her outside in a courtyard at the Abbey we visited this last weekend.
Grace said there are other girls staying at the house we’re at..two from Russia and two from Turkey I think? Crazy weekend…I saw pictures of Carnivale online. Some people go all out and dress head to toe, in ball gowns and masks--Renaissance style. I just want a mask, but I heard some of the masks there were worth thousands of dollars…
I tried to make espresso with the little stove top kettle in our apartment…it came out like water. Hot chocolate for me.
Italians always talk like they’re arguing. They might only be telling each other what they ate for breakfast, but you think something more is happening because they’re practically yelling at each other…They know this too. And they think you’re French if you talk quietly.
She symbolizes a season..I think summer. I found her outside in a courtyard at the Abbey we visited this last weekend.
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