I'M PACKED!!
It didn't take too long. I don't have a terribly large amount of stuff with me. That might explain why every day of my life is the coldest I've ever been and I end up asking why I didn't bring more warm clothing. But that's neither here nor there. And at least I have the warmth of Ohio to look forward to, right? (Ohio has carpet and central heating. Italy does not. So really it might end in a draw.) All I really have to do now is go to Rome on Saturday morning, hang out in Rome, and then leave Sunday morning. That should be easy enough, right?
So, with the discussion of leaving aside, I of course have to further analyze Margherita. What an interesting character. The other day she came into my room holding what appeared to be a large bunch of fake cherries. Of course, she did not offer me any explanation as to why she had these cherries and she threw them onto my open laptop. Actually, before throwing the cherries at me, she walked through my charger cord and proceeded to drag the charger and converter across the room with her. She always manages to do things like that. If something can be spilled, broken, toppled over, banged into, or otherwise disturbed in anyway, by God, she will find a way to do it. She also falls down a lot. That should be noted. Right, so she throws these cherries on my lap top. I told her that I was doing homework, which I was, but she didn't seem to care very much. She told me that I had 10 minutes to report to the studio. I complied. Instead of counting up to 10 minutes aloud like she usually does, she went into the other room to do it. I could still hear her. I always follow rules, so I went into the studio 10 minutes later. Margherita was sitting at a table, wearing a knit page boy hat and gloves. In front of her were these little plastic cherries. She was cutting off the tops so that just the cherry and not the plastic stem could be put in a box decorated with teddy bears. Cherry Harvest. She told me that my job was to separate the cherries from one another and then she would go about cutting off the tops. I asked her at least 6 times why we were doing this and she kept telling me to not worry about it. Oh, and she also didn't think I was doing a very good job at cherry separating. We played this game for maybe 15 minutes before Barbara came in, took one look at what she was doing, and made her stop. There was no yelling or screaming or tears; it was a very calm "You have to ask mommy before you do things like this." Because were they a part of her Christmas decorations? Of course they were.
I like to tell stories about Margh's nuances because they are fascinating and hilarious. Sometimes, though, I will encounter who people who say things like Ok, but you know that you're going to miss her when you leave. Well YEAH of course I am. When did I ever say that I don't care about her or I dislike her? She's just a science project, is all, and I have to constantly tell people what she's up to so that we can all put our heads together and make sense of her. I know that she understands that I leave soon but I don't think Arianna does. Last night as I was leaving, their grandmother asked me when I go. I said Saturday. Arianna looked up at me and said, "Wait, where are you going?" And it was this terrifying moment of realization-very akin to leaving Chester but not really being able to explain to him where I'm going and why. So I said "uhh, the United States" and her grandma said "she's going home." And poor baby girl looked so confused. And then I said ciao and I left.
Last night was our final dinner for the program. I ate a sickening amount of food. On the way to the restaurant, I ran into Luca and Chiara, two of my favorite Siena characters. Luca wished me luck in case I don't see him again before I leave and he asked me to please keep in touch and send e-mails. And that pretty much melted my heart because Luca is the best and of course I want to stay in touch! Especially when Chiara has their baby and they realize that the only practical name to give it (regardless of gender) is Katie.
Where are my children? And why haven't they ran in my room and jumped on my bed, told me to get off the computer and then take me by both hands into the studio where I will sit and laugh at them and ask Margherita why I always have to cook and she gets to plant the garden when we play house? Oh, I've also started shouting "No way, girlfriend!" to Margherita. I think it's really funny when she can't understand me and gets frustrated. Because I'm like, welcome to my life...
In 4 months my stomach still hasn't gotten used to no snacks. So. Hungry.
Lesson: Eat a big lunch, I guess.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Hey, Mid December.
I just made my first stack.
Do you understand what that means?
And it is weird that as I type this, RE: Stacks di Bon Iver is playing? Possibly.
But do you understand the importance of the stacking process in accordance to the packing process? Those stacks are then transferred into a suitcase and then said suitcase is put on a plane headed for the United States. As Margherita would say, "Wowwee Wow Wow Wow!!!!" After my shower, I took my dirty clothes to my hamper. Then I said to myself, "Self, there will be no more laundry days while you are here. So putting dirty clothes in the dirty clothes hamper is of no relevance anymore, is it?" So i folded those clothes and put them on my other bed, thinking, well I'll just know to pack those on the other side of the suit case since they're dirty. About 3 seconds later, the reality of the situation hit me. I am leaving so soon that I
have to consider packing logistics! For the record, my laundry day has always been Friday, so technically I am not missing another laundry day. But I usually don't get those clothes back until the following Tuesday or Wednesday and by that time I will be snuggling in my bed with Chester. So I suppose the dirty clothes will just continue to create their neat little pile and then before I know it I will be hoisting one of my infamously huge laundry piles into the laundry basket at home. Except my mom can't grumble about it too much because I'll be home, you know? (Yeah, Msue does my laundry. Are you going to judge me now? Try it, see what happens.) I also have a trash bag in my room that's been accumulating since circa August 30. Don't worry, it's all paper stuffs. Food particles gross me out too much, remember? So this room's not going to clean itself....I wonder if Margherita will let me teach her a new game?
Do you understand what that means?
And it is weird that as I type this, RE: Stacks di Bon Iver is playing? Possibly.
But do you understand the importance of the stacking process in accordance to the packing process? Those stacks are then transferred into a suitcase and then said suitcase is put on a plane headed for the United States. As Margherita would say, "Wowwee Wow Wow Wow!!!!" After my shower, I took my dirty clothes to my hamper. Then I said to myself, "Self, there will be no more laundry days while you are here. So putting dirty clothes in the dirty clothes hamper is of no relevance anymore, is it?" So i folded those clothes and put them on my other bed, thinking, well I'll just know to pack those on the other side of the suit case since they're dirty. About 3 seconds later, the reality of the situation hit me. I am leaving so soon that I
have to consider packing logistics! For the record, my laundry day has always been Friday, so technically I am not missing another laundry day. But I usually don't get those clothes back until the following Tuesday or Wednesday and by that time I will be snuggling in my bed with Chester. So I suppose the dirty clothes will just continue to create their neat little pile and then before I know it I will be hoisting one of my infamously huge laundry piles into the laundry basket at home. Except my mom can't grumble about it too much because I'll be home, you know? (Yeah, Msue does my laundry. Are you going to judge me now? Try it, see what happens.) I also have a trash bag in my room that's been accumulating since circa August 30. Don't worry, it's all paper stuffs. Food particles gross me out too much, remember? So this room's not going to clean itself....I wonder if Margherita will let me teach her a new game?
Look at this temp tat I was given! Thanks, children.
I guess I'll let you know how the packing goes. And which items I choose to leave here instead of having to pack them.
Lesson: Italian lesson today. The above tat reads "We are in love." It's going to look really good on me.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Collected Data
Margherita is a science fair project.
I'm not sure who is following along with my daily adventures with her, but you should know that I go to bed, almost every single night, saying to myself What just happened? Because in recent weeks it has dawned on me that I am having real conversations with her. And, as if that isn't strange enough, we've developed an actual relationship that is akin to, I don't know, sisterly? I guess my point is this: She might be crazy. She might be brilliant. But she is certainly the most entertaining child I have ever met.
Margherita gets bored easily. I find this hilarious because Italians LOVE having a routine. This morning when I was smearing Nutella on a fritte and then dipping it in my cappuccino I thought....Huh. At circa 8:07 every morning for the past 3 1/2 months you have smeared Nutella on exactly two frittes. Eat yogurt first. Eat small piece of cake. Nutella and frittes. Drink remaining cappuccino. Drink glass of water. Ball up napkin and stuff in yogurt cup. Yogurt cup in water glass. Mug and saucer stacked on top of breakfast plate. Carry all into kitchen and put in sink. I have literally done that every single day since August 30 with the exception of small trips. And that one time I slept in on a Saturday. Both meals eaten at home function this way. Routine. Maybe that's why Margherita gets so bored if she sits still for more than 3 minutes. For about 3 or 4 nights in a row, we play the same game. When I first got here, she just wanted to watch Friends all the time. Then play with Katie's stuff. Then volleyball. Then card games. Then drawing. Then house. Then magic spells. Then Katie and Margherita's art gallery where everything is sold at a reasonably affordable price. It's hard to keep up, actually. Arianna and I usually just nod our heads in agreement-it's alot easier that way. Last night Ari and I hid in my bed and watched videos of James Franco while Margherita ran around looking for us. Oh, she found us. And that's when we went to "work." Because play is like work for her. A certain quota of play must be done every night before we can go to bed. What a weird kid.
The other night was Stuffed Animal Play night. I enjoy a good stuffed animal play. Margherita began by introducing me to all of the actors in the show-it looked like a pretty decent cast. Of course, all of the animals had Italian names because she's Italian, you know? After a dozen or so introductions, she picked up a small pink cat. "And thiiiis....is Gatto Steve!" First of all, everything she ever says is in Italian so just KNOW that, ok? She's not an English prodigy or anything. But do you know what gatto means? It means cat. Cat Steve. I'm still not sure which part of Gatto Steve's name is most hilarious. Naturally, she and Arianna got in an argument over Gatto Steve's name being a boy name or a girl name. I assured them that yes, little pink Gatto Steve is in fact a boy. Once that was settled, I realized that the Lion's head was literally dangling by a thread. This was disconcerting to me. Margherita assured me atleast a dozen times that it didn't matter if Lion's head was falling off. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I went in my room and got the needle and thread I had brought with me. I sat down with Lion in my lap and began the extensive, and sometimes fatal, head re-attachment process. Don't worry-I assured both girls that I am a doctor. Oh, sidenote. 3-ish years ago I performed the exact same surgery on Serp's Cleveland Cavaliers bear when a certain character ripped its head off in a fit of post-season hysteria. Bear was my first survivor. And, thankfully, Lion was my second. The best part about this surgery is that my host nonna AND Fabio both walked in and immediately fell in love with me because I was sewing together injured stuffed animals. Right, so I believe the girls were mildly impressed with my sewing abilities. Then Margherita saw that Lion and Donkey's tails were tied together. Instead of untying the tails, she cut them off. Just picked up a pair of scissors and cut of their tails. Girl, seriously? So yes. You can assume that while the other animals got to act in their end of the year production, I was mending the tails of Lion and Donkey. I'll probably be putting this experience on my med school application.
I could literally go on for years about the strange nuances of this child. I feel like merely explaining them, though, does not do the entire experience justice. I will leave you with a final anecdote and then maybe you can make your own judgement.
Margherita really likes math. I like doing math with her because numbers are universal and there's not much to be lost in translation. She also really likes to come up with little games where letters are equal to certain numbers and then you add the words together and then the numbers that come out...I don't know, I think it's supposed to be a message or something. The other day she selected numbers totally at random. She did some additional then some subtraction. The answer was 666. Check and mate.
The magic number is 10. MOLTO STRANO.
Lesson: Learn to sew. The animals need you.
I'm not sure who is following along with my daily adventures with her, but you should know that I go to bed, almost every single night, saying to myself What just happened? Because in recent weeks it has dawned on me that I am having real conversations with her. And, as if that isn't strange enough, we've developed an actual relationship that is akin to, I don't know, sisterly? I guess my point is this: She might be crazy. She might be brilliant. But she is certainly the most entertaining child I have ever met.
Margherita gets bored easily. I find this hilarious because Italians LOVE having a routine. This morning when I was smearing Nutella on a fritte and then dipping it in my cappuccino I thought....Huh. At circa 8:07 every morning for the past 3 1/2 months you have smeared Nutella on exactly two frittes. Eat yogurt first. Eat small piece of cake. Nutella and frittes. Drink remaining cappuccino. Drink glass of water. Ball up napkin and stuff in yogurt cup. Yogurt cup in water glass. Mug and saucer stacked on top of breakfast plate. Carry all into kitchen and put in sink. I have literally done that every single day since August 30 with the exception of small trips. And that one time I slept in on a Saturday. Both meals eaten at home function this way. Routine. Maybe that's why Margherita gets so bored if she sits still for more than 3 minutes. For about 3 or 4 nights in a row, we play the same game. When I first got here, she just wanted to watch Friends all the time. Then play with Katie's stuff. Then volleyball. Then card games. Then drawing. Then house. Then magic spells. Then Katie and Margherita's art gallery where everything is sold at a reasonably affordable price. It's hard to keep up, actually. Arianna and I usually just nod our heads in agreement-it's alot easier that way. Last night Ari and I hid in my bed and watched videos of James Franco while Margherita ran around looking for us. Oh, she found us. And that's when we went to "work." Because play is like work for her. A certain quota of play must be done every night before we can go to bed. What a weird kid.
The other night was Stuffed Animal Play night. I enjoy a good stuffed animal play. Margherita began by introducing me to all of the actors in the show-it looked like a pretty decent cast. Of course, all of the animals had Italian names because she's Italian, you know? After a dozen or so introductions, she picked up a small pink cat. "And thiiiis....is Gatto Steve!" First of all, everything she ever says is in Italian so just KNOW that, ok? She's not an English prodigy or anything. But do you know what gatto means? It means cat. Cat Steve. I'm still not sure which part of Gatto Steve's name is most hilarious. Naturally, she and Arianna got in an argument over Gatto Steve's name being a boy name or a girl name. I assured them that yes, little pink Gatto Steve is in fact a boy. Once that was settled, I realized that the Lion's head was literally dangling by a thread. This was disconcerting to me. Margherita assured me atleast a dozen times that it didn't matter if Lion's head was falling off. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I went in my room and got the needle and thread I had brought with me. I sat down with Lion in my lap and began the extensive, and sometimes fatal, head re-attachment process. Don't worry-I assured both girls that I am a doctor. Oh, sidenote. 3-ish years ago I performed the exact same surgery on Serp's Cleveland Cavaliers bear when a certain character ripped its head off in a fit of post-season hysteria. Bear was my first survivor. And, thankfully, Lion was my second. The best part about this surgery is that my host nonna AND Fabio both walked in and immediately fell in love with me because I was sewing together injured stuffed animals. Right, so I believe the girls were mildly impressed with my sewing abilities. Then Margherita saw that Lion and Donkey's tails were tied together. Instead of untying the tails, she cut them off. Just picked up a pair of scissors and cut of their tails. Girl, seriously? So yes. You can assume that while the other animals got to act in their end of the year production, I was mending the tails of Lion and Donkey. I'll probably be putting this experience on my med school application.
I could literally go on for years about the strange nuances of this child. I feel like merely explaining them, though, does not do the entire experience justice. I will leave you with a final anecdote and then maybe you can make your own judgement.
Margherita really likes math. I like doing math with her because numbers are universal and there's not much to be lost in translation. She also really likes to come up with little games where letters are equal to certain numbers and then you add the words together and then the numbers that come out...I don't know, I think it's supposed to be a message or something. The other day she selected numbers totally at random. She did some additional then some subtraction. The answer was 666. Check and mate.
The magic number is 10. MOLTO STRANO.
Lesson: Learn to sew. The animals need you.
Monday, November 29, 2010
To Torino, with love.
To be frank, I don't really know where to begin.
Let's start on Wednesday night, the eve before my departure for Torino. My friends and I had decided to go for the long Thanksgiving weekend. We picked this city on account of our recent obsession with Northern Italy. Sorry, Tuscany. But not really. Torino is just a little more north than our initial love, Milan, so we figured it was worth a try. So as I laid in my bed, recovering from a large Thanksgiving feast, I began to concoct a series of possible events that could unfold in Torino. I like playing that game. Some may argue that this will only result in disappointment at some point in my life, but really it just keeps me entertained. Right, so my mind began to wander and for whatever reason, it settled on James Franco. Now I must tell you: I am a fan. He is by no means my all time biggest celebrity crush, but I really like the guy and I appreciate his want to become an English Doctor and save the words. (Creative writing PhD candidate. Hell yes.) So I imagined him being on the train to Torino, the two of us striking up a conversation about writing and then, after realizing our incredible intellectual companionship, we essentially become best friends and I convince him to come speak at Wooster. (This also ties in with my fantasy of becoming a well respected member of the English department, but I think that is even less likely to happen than the James Franco companionship.) I tossed and turned that night, anticipating my day of travel. Also, I thought about the best way of getting James' attention.
The train ride to Torino was long but absolutely well worth it. I think I will venture to say that it is my favorite European city that I've visited. Seriously. And I've been to San Gimignano so that's really saying something. I arrived there on the night of Thanksgiving, and we celebrated the classic American holiday with pizza and beer. That sounds pretty American to me. Our hostel was a pleasant surprise; the doors locked and the rooms were warm! Not only this, but our stay came with complimentary breakfast. Torino surely knows how to win my heart. It should also be noted that upon sitting on my bed for the first time, it broke in half. I pieced it back together as best as I could. And, as an added bonus, when the mattress was off for repairs, we used the bed frame as a bottle opener!
The next day we ventured towards the center of the city, oohing and ahhing over palaces and buildings, letting ourselves into courtyards and actually having fairly intellectual conversations about art and architecture. In no time at all, we found the Mole Antonelliana, which is not only the tallest brick building in Europe but also the home of the National Cinema Museum. Let. me. tell. you. something. Going to this Cinema Museum was seriously one of the best decisions I've ever made. I like movies. I like movies quite a bit, actually. But this museum was incredible. It began with shadow boxes and the development of moving non-human entertainment from probably 5 or 600 years ago. From there, the history of the camera was introduced, and then the addition of sound to film and then it just became a mass of movie artifacts, ranging from the original draft of the Godfather pt II script and all of the original prototypes of Star Wars costumes. The current exhibit is horror movies, and framed posters and information lined probably 5 floors of the winding central area. As if it couldn't get any cooler, we then took an elevator up to the roof so we could enjoy the panoramic view. And what a view it was! You want to know why? Because we could see the Alps. They are substantially more impressive than the mountains we have in Akron.
The Torino Film Festival was this past weekend. Seriously. Of ALL the weekends I could have gone to Torino, I just so happened to go on the weekend of a very important, very legitimate film festival. When we left the Cinema Museum, people had began to line up at various kiosks to buy tickets for the week's showings. We got our hands on some programs and Becca said, "Hey, 127 Hours. That's the new James Franco movie."
Time out. The who in the what now? Are you serious? Of all delusional fantasies in the entire world that I could have ever fabricated, my mind managed to settle on one that suddenly became a quasi reality? Score. Done and done. Tickets bought on the spot. Saturday, 10 pm. James and Me. Torino Film Festival, you are the best.
We encountered some friendly old men at the information kiosk who made mention of our beautiful smiles and asked us to please never leave Torino. I can't say that I was completely against this idea. Hannah had the good mind to ask them about ways to get to the Alps and, sure enough, they knew exactly where to send us. They even looked it up for us on the internet, even though they were exclusively Film Fest information givers. So we were off to the train station! We bought some cheap tickets for an early train the next morning that would take us to Bardonecchia. None of us knew anything about it except it was in the mountains. I think there was a collective gasp from the four of us as the train made its way through the Alps. I am from the Midwest. We simply do not have things of this nature. Emily was elated because they reminded her so much of the Rockies. I was elated at the fact that my elevation was actually changing. As we got closer to Bardonecchia, though, we realized that the landscape was very run down...lots of abandoned factories and motor homes. That was more like Ohio. And then, when we finally reached the station, the scenery had not really changed. We got out, looked around at the nothingness, and then walked through the station.
Oh, here it is! What an absolutely adorable little mountain village. Seriously. And, according to geography, I think we were more or less straddling the French border. We were surrounded by the Alps and snow on all sides, every shop window was completely adorned in Christmas decor and the city, though incredibly small, was somewhat bustling. Did it resemble Hogsmeade? Yeah, I think it did. We had lunch at a diner-esque restaurant and then we moved next door for pastries and coffee. The latter half of that was mostly because the city shut down for a 4 hour lunch break. I saw lots of snow and mountains and, even though my toes were approaching numbness, I was more than pleased.
SATURDAY NIGHT. Did you know that international film festivals are really serious? We got to the theatre about 20 minutes before the movie and the line was out the door. We essentially went through 3 or 4 stages of security. Our tickets were checked, torn and scanned. Then all cell phones and cameras were to be put in special sealed bags that were pretty hard to open again. The theatre was HUGE and packed-I'd guess it sat maybe 400ish people? 500? I am terrible at estimations of this nature so just trust me when I say a lot of people were there. We sat in the second row all the way to the left but I could still see the screen just fine. Are you familiar with 127 Hours? It's the story of Aron Ralston, the American canyoneer who cut off his own arm in order to live. The opening moments of the movie were filled with James Franco just doing crazy shit, furthering the point that he's this adventurous character who is up for anything. The worst part (or maybe it was better) is that I knew exactly what was going to happen so it was a matter of just waiting. In the meantime, I managed to say aloud "You know what? This is some stupid shit Terry would pull." And then I crossed my arms and hunkered down in my chair and got mad at Terry for not telling me he was going biking in the desert. Sorry, Terry. I didn't mean to get mad at you for not actually doing anything but imagining you as this character who, indeed, has to cut his own arm off. AND BOY DID HE EVER. Oh, they showed it. They totally showed it. I even knew it was coming and I knew it was fake but still...gah. Guh. Ouch. I don't even want to go into detail about it. Just know that if you go see it...you're going to see it. It also really helped knowing that he survives because I atleast had that to look forward to. It wasn't like Into the Wild where I had spent 2.5 hours rooting for someone and then just feeling a little empty. (But his liberation from society was so inspiring! Yes, I know that, but when super cuties don't survive, I get a little sad.) Also, it should be noted that when James finally sees the light of day again and we KNOW he is going to be rescued and live, Sigur Ros' "Festival" is played and it is literally the most triumphant movie moment I have ever witnessed and now I want "Festival" to be my personal theme music. I want it to be played when I get off the plane in Cleveland. I want it to be played when I have my first child. I want it to be played when I walk into school tomorrow. But just the last 5 of the 9 minutes, please.
Wait, did you expect me to get to meet James Franco? I know I did. I thought that there would be some kind of question and answer session afterwards. I had a few questions readily prepared, such as:
-When does Tristan and Isolde 2 come out?
-Did you really cut your arm off for this role?
-What are you doing later?
Needless to say, he was not there so I was unable to begin our life long best friendship. I'm not too worried-some things are simply meant to happen. On the bright side, though, I spent most of today googling images of James Franco and listening to NPR podcast interviews with him.
Did I mention that Torino is exactly how I've always pictured the North Pole? Every year the city commissions 20 artists to create massive light installations that are hung above all the streets. It's a pretty impressive sight. On the last day as we walked to the tram stop, it began to snow. Christmas, I await you with open arms.
Lesson: Always leave a note. Seriously. Aron Ralston didn't tell anyone where he was going and he lost his arm. Think about it. I mentioned this to Terry and he told me to please stop worrying about him. He also told me to please stop worrying about the possibility of dying in a stampede on an over populated bridge. "Just don't go on bridges if there's alot of people." And that's the thinking that got him into grad school.
20 DAYS LEFT IN ITALY. insane? yes. get the Sigur Ros ready.
Let's start on Wednesday night, the eve before my departure for Torino. My friends and I had decided to go for the long Thanksgiving weekend. We picked this city on account of our recent obsession with Northern Italy. Sorry, Tuscany. But not really. Torino is just a little more north than our initial love, Milan, so we figured it was worth a try. So as I laid in my bed, recovering from a large Thanksgiving feast, I began to concoct a series of possible events that could unfold in Torino. I like playing that game. Some may argue that this will only result in disappointment at some point in my life, but really it just keeps me entertained. Right, so my mind began to wander and for whatever reason, it settled on James Franco. Now I must tell you: I am a fan. He is by no means my all time biggest celebrity crush, but I really like the guy and I appreciate his want to become an English Doctor and save the words. (Creative writing PhD candidate. Hell yes.) So I imagined him being on the train to Torino, the two of us striking up a conversation about writing and then, after realizing our incredible intellectual companionship, we essentially become best friends and I convince him to come speak at Wooster. (This also ties in with my fantasy of becoming a well respected member of the English department, but I think that is even less likely to happen than the James Franco companionship.) I tossed and turned that night, anticipating my day of travel. Also, I thought about the best way of getting James' attention.
The train ride to Torino was long but absolutely well worth it. I think I will venture to say that it is my favorite European city that I've visited. Seriously. And I've been to San Gimignano so that's really saying something. I arrived there on the night of Thanksgiving, and we celebrated the classic American holiday with pizza and beer. That sounds pretty American to me. Our hostel was a pleasant surprise; the doors locked and the rooms were warm! Not only this, but our stay came with complimentary breakfast. Torino surely knows how to win my heart. It should also be noted that upon sitting on my bed for the first time, it broke in half. I pieced it back together as best as I could. And, as an added bonus, when the mattress was off for repairs, we used the bed frame as a bottle opener!
The next day we ventured towards the center of the city, oohing and ahhing over palaces and buildings, letting ourselves into courtyards and actually having fairly intellectual conversations about art and architecture. In no time at all, we found the Mole Antonelliana, which is not only the tallest brick building in Europe but also the home of the National Cinema Museum. Let. me. tell. you. something. Going to this Cinema Museum was seriously one of the best decisions I've ever made. I like movies. I like movies quite a bit, actually. But this museum was incredible. It began with shadow boxes and the development of moving non-human entertainment from probably 5 or 600 years ago. From there, the history of the camera was introduced, and then the addition of sound to film and then it just became a mass of movie artifacts, ranging from the original draft of the Godfather pt II script and all of the original prototypes of Star Wars costumes. The current exhibit is horror movies, and framed posters and information lined probably 5 floors of the winding central area. As if it couldn't get any cooler, we then took an elevator up to the roof so we could enjoy the panoramic view. And what a view it was! You want to know why? Because we could see the Alps. They are substantially more impressive than the mountains we have in Akron.
The Torino Film Festival was this past weekend. Seriously. Of ALL the weekends I could have gone to Torino, I just so happened to go on the weekend of a very important, very legitimate film festival. When we left the Cinema Museum, people had began to line up at various kiosks to buy tickets for the week's showings. We got our hands on some programs and Becca said, "Hey, 127 Hours. That's the new James Franco movie."
Time out. The who in the what now? Are you serious? Of all delusional fantasies in the entire world that I could have ever fabricated, my mind managed to settle on one that suddenly became a quasi reality? Score. Done and done. Tickets bought on the spot. Saturday, 10 pm. James and Me. Torino Film Festival, you are the best.
We encountered some friendly old men at the information kiosk who made mention of our beautiful smiles and asked us to please never leave Torino. I can't say that I was completely against this idea. Hannah had the good mind to ask them about ways to get to the Alps and, sure enough, they knew exactly where to send us. They even looked it up for us on the internet, even though they were exclusively Film Fest information givers. So we were off to the train station! We bought some cheap tickets for an early train the next morning that would take us to Bardonecchia. None of us knew anything about it except it was in the mountains. I think there was a collective gasp from the four of us as the train made its way through the Alps. I am from the Midwest. We simply do not have things of this nature. Emily was elated because they reminded her so much of the Rockies. I was elated at the fact that my elevation was actually changing. As we got closer to Bardonecchia, though, we realized that the landscape was very run down...lots of abandoned factories and motor homes. That was more like Ohio. And then, when we finally reached the station, the scenery had not really changed. We got out, looked around at the nothingness, and then walked through the station.
Oh, here it is! What an absolutely adorable little mountain village. Seriously. And, according to geography, I think we were more or less straddling the French border. We were surrounded by the Alps and snow on all sides, every shop window was completely adorned in Christmas decor and the city, though incredibly small, was somewhat bustling. Did it resemble Hogsmeade? Yeah, I think it did. We had lunch at a diner-esque restaurant and then we moved next door for pastries and coffee. The latter half of that was mostly because the city shut down for a 4 hour lunch break. I saw lots of snow and mountains and, even though my toes were approaching numbness, I was more than pleased.
SATURDAY NIGHT. Did you know that international film festivals are really serious? We got to the theatre about 20 minutes before the movie and the line was out the door. We essentially went through 3 or 4 stages of security. Our tickets were checked, torn and scanned. Then all cell phones and cameras were to be put in special sealed bags that were pretty hard to open again. The theatre was HUGE and packed-I'd guess it sat maybe 400ish people? 500? I am terrible at estimations of this nature so just trust me when I say a lot of people were there. We sat in the second row all the way to the left but I could still see the screen just fine. Are you familiar with 127 Hours? It's the story of Aron Ralston, the American canyoneer who cut off his own arm in order to live. The opening moments of the movie were filled with James Franco just doing crazy shit, furthering the point that he's this adventurous character who is up for anything. The worst part (or maybe it was better) is that I knew exactly what was going to happen so it was a matter of just waiting. In the meantime, I managed to say aloud "You know what? This is some stupid shit Terry would pull." And then I crossed my arms and hunkered down in my chair and got mad at Terry for not telling me he was going biking in the desert. Sorry, Terry. I didn't mean to get mad at you for not actually doing anything but imagining you as this character who, indeed, has to cut his own arm off. AND BOY DID HE EVER. Oh, they showed it. They totally showed it. I even knew it was coming and I knew it was fake but still...gah. Guh. Ouch. I don't even want to go into detail about it. Just know that if you go see it...you're going to see it. It also really helped knowing that he survives because I atleast had that to look forward to. It wasn't like Into the Wild where I had spent 2.5 hours rooting for someone and then just feeling a little empty. (But his liberation from society was so inspiring! Yes, I know that, but when super cuties don't survive, I get a little sad.) Also, it should be noted that when James finally sees the light of day again and we KNOW he is going to be rescued and live, Sigur Ros' "Festival" is played and it is literally the most triumphant movie moment I have ever witnessed and now I want "Festival" to be my personal theme music. I want it to be played when I get off the plane in Cleveland. I want it to be played when I have my first child. I want it to be played when I walk into school tomorrow. But just the last 5 of the 9 minutes, please.
Wait, did you expect me to get to meet James Franco? I know I did. I thought that there would be some kind of question and answer session afterwards. I had a few questions readily prepared, such as:
-When does Tristan and Isolde 2 come out?
-Did you really cut your arm off for this role?
-What are you doing later?
Needless to say, he was not there so I was unable to begin our life long best friendship. I'm not too worried-some things are simply meant to happen. On the bright side, though, I spent most of today googling images of James Franco and listening to NPR podcast interviews with him.
Did I mention that Torino is exactly how I've always pictured the North Pole? Every year the city commissions 20 artists to create massive light installations that are hung above all the streets. It's a pretty impressive sight. On the last day as we walked to the tram stop, it began to snow. Christmas, I await you with open arms.
Lesson: Always leave a note. Seriously. Aron Ralston didn't tell anyone where he was going and he lost his arm. Think about it. I mentioned this to Terry and he told me to please stop worrying about him. He also told me to please stop worrying about the possibility of dying in a stampede on an over populated bridge. "Just don't go on bridges if there's alot of people." And that's the thinking that got him into grad school.
20 DAYS LEFT IN ITALY. insane? yes. get the Sigur Ros ready.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Movies with Fabs (i film con Fabs)
I would like to begin with a brief list:
Movies that Fabio likes
Behind Enemy Lines
The 300
The Fugitive
The Jackal
I know there are others that could be added to this list, such as The Godfather which he has on special edition DVD. By the by, I am hoping to work up the nerve to casually bring it into conversation and then ask him if we can please please please watch it together. Because can a situation really get more Italian than that? (Well, there was the Michael Jackson impersonator dancing in front of the Colosseum, but that's neither here nor there.) Fabio reacts so wonderfully to the movies that are played on Rai 5 Grande Fiction. "Ooooh, bellissimo," he will sigh, watching the commercials longingly. And then, as though fate couldn't have planned it any better, the commercial informs him that YES this movie is on tonight! Instead of turning in early, Fabio always takes up his usual spot on the couch and watches a movie he has seen numerous times, reacting as though it is all a surprise.
Personal favorite reactions include, but are not limited to:
-A scene in the 300 in which a pile of dead bodies is displayed on the screen. Two soldiers exchange a few words. I can't remember the words. Fabio grins, literally ear to ear and exclaims, no, guffaws! "Bellissimo! Ohh, Katie, Katie, guarda, bellissimo." And then he laughs for a very long time. I just assume that because the 300 is about his people, he is more "in" on the jokes.
-The other night after watching a show about great white sharks, Fabio was flipping through the channels. Suddenly, Harrison Ford's grizzled face appeared on the screen. HELL YES THE FUGITIVE. Fabio and I looked at eachother and exclaimed, "HARRISON FORD!!" And then, "Oh, conosci questa film? Katie, you know? Conosci? Ohhh, bellissimo, bellissimo!" When Fabio is watching a movie he really likes, he sits, grinning and shaking his head, amazed that a movie like this could ever be made. The only con to this particular scenario: The infamous Tommy Lee Jones "I don't care!" was lost because, well, it's dubbed. I miss American voices.
-A preview for the Expendables came on a few months ago. He literally stopped whatever it was he was doing, probably tending to a child, and he stared at the screen with his mouth wide open. Once the preview was over he turned to me very slowly and said, in English, "This....this is my film." I have no idea if he ever got the chance to see it.
-One time we were watching War of the Worlds. After an especially heroic scene in which Tom Cruise is literally the only human being still alive, Fabio very calmly says, "This is what it will be like in 2012." And then he continued to laugh laugh laugh at Tom Cruise, because why would he be the only person still alive? Of all the people in the world, WHY Tom Cruise? That seemed to be Fabio's biggest concern. And, come to think of it, that might be mine as well.
Tonight, Rai 5 is showing The Jackal ("con Richard Gere e Bruce Willis!"). I know that it is still on because I can hear it through my bedroom wall. When the preview came on during dinner, Fabio began to smile and shake his head, alerting me that I should turn around and see which movie would be played later. And of course..."Katie, conosci? The Jackal! Richard Gere e buono ma...Bruce Willis...cativo. Oh, bellissimo." And that's true, because that Bruce Willis really is quite cativo in all of his swarmy disguises. I hadn't originally planned to watch the movie with Fabio because it was coloring and balloon time with Margherita-this happens alot. She tells me what to do so I do it. I was peacefully sketching my rendition of a classic Christmas scene, complete with a "Natale in 33 giorni!!!" caption when a stray balloon from Arianna landed on the table, knocking a lamp to the floor causing it to crash into millions of pieces. Margherita and Arianna looked at each other. Then they looked at me. I really was of no help because at that point I was drawing a sleeping Chester in front of a fire place. Fabio called to Barbara and as soon as the three of us realized she was coming, we went into bat-shit-I-swear-I-didn't-do-it-please-still-love-me-mode. Possibly me more than the others. Sure enough it was an absolute epic show down, with LOTS of tears and LOTS of screaming. Meanwhile, I had managed to silently slide out and slink onto the couch. And, sure enough, The Jackal was playing. The arguing and yelling and crying (sooooo much crying) went on for quite some time. I sat awkwardly on the couch, feeling guilty for nothing but wondering if I should have stepped in at some point and put a stop to the ballooning. (Easier said than done, I assure you.) Once the girls were in their rooms, screaming and kicking and crying and throwing and God knows what else, Fabio turns to me and says,
"The Joh-kal. Jah? Joh-kal? Come se dice?
"Jah? Yeah like this. Jah? Kol. Like. The Jackal."
"Jackal?"
"Yeah, Jackal."
"Jah-kol? Theee Jackal! Bruce Willis, molto cativo..."
And that's how I avoided getting in trouble for not actually doing something but totally feeling like an accomplice in the Great Lamp Debacle of 2010.
Hey I went to Rome. It was ok. I'll write about that when Fabio stops being hilarious. (AKA never)
Lesson: Maybe I should stop riling up the girls before bed. On the other hand, that Rai 5 sure plays great movies.
Movies that Fabio likes
Behind Enemy Lines
The 300
The Fugitive
The Jackal
I know there are others that could be added to this list, such as The Godfather which he has on special edition DVD. By the by, I am hoping to work up the nerve to casually bring it into conversation and then ask him if we can please please please watch it together. Because can a situation really get more Italian than that? (Well, there was the Michael Jackson impersonator dancing in front of the Colosseum, but that's neither here nor there.) Fabio reacts so wonderfully to the movies that are played on Rai 5 Grande Fiction. "Ooooh, bellissimo," he will sigh, watching the commercials longingly. And then, as though fate couldn't have planned it any better, the commercial informs him that YES this movie is on tonight! Instead of turning in early, Fabio always takes up his usual spot on the couch and watches a movie he has seen numerous times, reacting as though it is all a surprise.
Personal favorite reactions include, but are not limited to:
-A scene in the 300 in which a pile of dead bodies is displayed on the screen. Two soldiers exchange a few words. I can't remember the words. Fabio grins, literally ear to ear and exclaims, no, guffaws! "Bellissimo! Ohh, Katie, Katie, guarda, bellissimo." And then he laughs for a very long time. I just assume that because the 300 is about his people, he is more "in" on the jokes.
-The other night after watching a show about great white sharks, Fabio was flipping through the channels. Suddenly, Harrison Ford's grizzled face appeared on the screen. HELL YES THE FUGITIVE. Fabio and I looked at eachother and exclaimed, "HARRISON FORD!!" And then, "Oh, conosci questa film? Katie, you know? Conosci? Ohhh, bellissimo, bellissimo!" When Fabio is watching a movie he really likes, he sits, grinning and shaking his head, amazed that a movie like this could ever be made. The only con to this particular scenario: The infamous Tommy Lee Jones "I don't care!" was lost because, well, it's dubbed. I miss American voices.
-A preview for the Expendables came on a few months ago. He literally stopped whatever it was he was doing, probably tending to a child, and he stared at the screen with his mouth wide open. Once the preview was over he turned to me very slowly and said, in English, "This....this is my film." I have no idea if he ever got the chance to see it.
-One time we were watching War of the Worlds. After an especially heroic scene in which Tom Cruise is literally the only human being still alive, Fabio very calmly says, "This is what it will be like in 2012." And then he continued to laugh laugh laugh at Tom Cruise, because why would he be the only person still alive? Of all the people in the world, WHY Tom Cruise? That seemed to be Fabio's biggest concern. And, come to think of it, that might be mine as well.
Tonight, Rai 5 is showing The Jackal ("con Richard Gere e Bruce Willis!"). I know that it is still on because I can hear it through my bedroom wall. When the preview came on during dinner, Fabio began to smile and shake his head, alerting me that I should turn around and see which movie would be played later. And of course..."Katie, conosci? The Jackal! Richard Gere e buono ma...Bruce Willis...cativo. Oh, bellissimo." And that's true, because that Bruce Willis really is quite cativo in all of his swarmy disguises. I hadn't originally planned to watch the movie with Fabio because it was coloring and balloon time with Margherita-this happens alot. She tells me what to do so I do it. I was peacefully sketching my rendition of a classic Christmas scene, complete with a "Natale in 33 giorni!!!" caption when a stray balloon from Arianna landed on the table, knocking a lamp to the floor causing it to crash into millions of pieces. Margherita and Arianna looked at each other. Then they looked at me. I really was of no help because at that point I was drawing a sleeping Chester in front of a fire place. Fabio called to Barbara and as soon as the three of us realized she was coming, we went into bat-shit-I-swear-I-didn't-do-it-please-still-love-me-mode. Possibly me more than the others. Sure enough it was an absolute epic show down, with LOTS of tears and LOTS of screaming. Meanwhile, I had managed to silently slide out and slink onto the couch. And, sure enough, The Jackal was playing. The arguing and yelling and crying (sooooo much crying) went on for quite some time. I sat awkwardly on the couch, feeling guilty for nothing but wondering if I should have stepped in at some point and put a stop to the ballooning. (Easier said than done, I assure you.) Once the girls were in their rooms, screaming and kicking and crying and throwing and God knows what else, Fabio turns to me and says,
"The Joh-kal. Jah? Joh-kal? Come se dice?
"Jah? Yeah like this. Jah? Kol. Like. The Jackal."
"Jackal?"
"Yeah, Jackal."
"Jah-kol? Theee Jackal! Bruce Willis, molto cativo..."
And that's how I avoided getting in trouble for not actually doing something but totally feeling like an accomplice in the Great Lamp Debacle of 2010.
Hey I went to Rome. It was ok. I'll write about that when Fabio stops being hilarious. (AKA never)
Lesson: Maybe I should stop riling up the girls before bed. On the other hand, that Rai 5 sure plays great movies.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Now that I'm a world traveller...
I just noticed that my total number of blog posts for this semester is an astounding 10. How many is enough, do you think? You also must consider that I wrote two of those entries while still in Ohio (the Heart of it All.) I apologize for being a fairly lazy blogger, but with my intense schedule of volleyball, playing school, conducting Princess photo shoots and writing my Dragon story, I am pretty much booked from now until December 18. I just won't know what to do with all of my down time once I am back at Wooster in the spring.
So I went on a trip! As it turns out, I really enjoy traveling, especially when it goes as smoothly as it did for us. Last Friday we began our day by catching the 7:50 am bus to Florence. There is nothing I like more than waking up early for a day of tromping around a city and looking at churches. Wait, I take that back. We went back to the Uffizi Gallery and spent more time in the Bodicelli room, though I very distinctly remember zoning out for a fair amount of that lecture. I like art, but as it turns out I am really bad at paying attention when it is being talked about. While listening to the presentation of Prima Vera by Bodicelli, I managed to simultaneously imagine my future, only the next 3-5 years, and it mostly involved working my way up at a major television network and becoming the head writer at some show. I hadn't really developed the show itself, but I did come up with a really stellar wardrobe for the professional years. Also, I am going to have a good haircut.
The end of our day in Florence was happily welcomed and, even better, I got to see Margaret! Seeing people from home while abroad is admittedly a little strange. I've grown so used to giving small introductions before talking about friends from home, where Margaret and I automatically jumped into stories about Biz without any explanation. On the other hand, I often jump into stories about Biz without any explanation; it's funnier that way. The next day, Saturday, the group did some walking around the city before boarding our train to Milan. Even though the train ride was nearly 4 hours, I found it to be really enjoyable. You know why? Because we had a compartment! This has been my dream for a good many years-blame Harry Potter. You better believe that I ran Dementor jokes into the ground. (Oh, just you wait until I get to London...) At around 7:30 that evening, we arrived in Milan. Milano Centrale, the station, is massive-quite impressive and beautiful, actually. With the help of our good friend, Rick Steeves, we found our way to the hostel.
In case you were wondering where the most beautiful men in the world live, the answer is Milan. In fact, many of them work the front counter at La Cortada, the hostel where we stayed. Write that name down. When you go to Milan, you can see for yourself. Our stay in Milan can mostly be summed up in a few words: Food, Rain, Art, Daniel. I ate the best gnocchi I've ever had at an Asian run Italian restaurant that showed Rocky V all night. It rained literally every second we were there. I went through many socks. One of the highlights of my entire European experience was going to the Brera Galleria and seeing Caravaggio's Supper at Emmaus. I drooled a little bit. I wish I could e-mail my old Baroque Art History professor and tell her THAT I SAW IT. I wrote a final paper on it last fall. I got an A on it. But that's neither here nor there. I also saw some Gentileschi (papa, not daughter) a real live Rembrandt, and a good number of Dutch artists who I'm fond of. See, I'm much better at looking at art all by myself. Because when I start to zone out I can move onto the next piece. What did I forget? Oh, right. Daniel. All time favorite counter worker at La Cordata. We day tripped to Lake Como on Monday. One of the most beautiful places in the world? George Clooney lives there so it's a good possibility. Overall, our review of Milan is pretty glowing. And to make the stay even better, none of us got pick pocketed. Take that, child beggars.
Tuesday we left for London. You know what they have in London? The English language, cheeseburgers and Starbucks. I cannot even begin to adequately describe my happiness. Italian food is really good. I don't think I have to present that as a late breaking observation. But as soon as something else was an option, it occurred to me how very very very much I miss my old eating habits. For example, I walked into a London convenience store and bought a bag of Doritos and a Coke and in one fell swoop, it was all gone. I drank Starbucks like it was my job. (They have their Christmas cups out, by the way-is it like that in America?) I ate bagels and ice cream and PEANUT BUTTER and Japanese food and there was a Burger King on every corner. It was good to be fake home.
What did I do in London? I saw stuff. We stayed with Becca's aunt and uncle who live maybe 2 blocks from Abbey Road studios. My first encounter with the famous crosswalk was a very here it is moment. What you might not know about Abbey Road is that it is actually a very busy area; watching people attempt to re-create the Beatles album cover is really entertaining because they are constantly dodging cars. I watched a group of 4 French boys take the shot over and over again because it was never perfect enough. It was a cold day. In spite of this, they committed fully and the 3rd boy in line went shoeless. And why not? The more we walked around the area, especially en route to the tube station, going across the Abbey Road crosswalk became very routine. I can only assume that the people in St. John's Wood (the neighborhood) hate tourists. Then again, I hate tourists so I just project this assumption on to all people the world over. You're welcome.
Millennium Bridge and St. Paul
If you walk down the Thames, you can see everything that's ever been printed on a London postcard. We got off the tube at St. Paul, walked across the Millennium Bridge (Remember when the Death Eaters blew it up? In Harry Potter, not in life?) saw the Globe Theatre (Remember when Shakespeare worked there? That was real life) and then continued our walk until it ran us directly into Big Ben and Parliament. (Remember when V blew up Parliament? Also not in real life.) Parliament was flooded with war protestors-once again, it was good to be fake home. One complaint: I was not that impressed by Buckingham Palace. It was big, yeah. But you are essentially allowed to look through a cast iron gate and that's kind of it. It's a really nice gate, though, so I'll give them that.
We returned to Siena on Sunday evening, just in time for dinner. I was greeted by a screaming Margherita and a Spiderman face painted Arianna. I actually haven't laughed that hard in a long time.
And now I return to normal Siena life. Rome next weekend. Hopefully Switzerland or a similar trip the following. Then, in no time at all, I will be sitting in your basement once again drinking all of your Cokes and passively suggesting we go get food. That last statement really only applies to Jake, but I don't think he reads my blog. So if any of you reading this know Jake, let him know he got a shout out.
Oh, and Margherita yelled at me because of an argument concerning the answer to 8 x 9. The answer is 72. Before I told that story to any of my friends, I did the problem on a calculator just to make sure. Being an English major has really paid off.
Lesson: Travel. You'll like it.
So I went on a trip! As it turns out, I really enjoy traveling, especially when it goes as smoothly as it did for us. Last Friday we began our day by catching the 7:50 am bus to Florence. There is nothing I like more than waking up early for a day of tromping around a city and looking at churches. Wait, I take that back. We went back to the Uffizi Gallery and spent more time in the Bodicelli room, though I very distinctly remember zoning out for a fair amount of that lecture. I like art, but as it turns out I am really bad at paying attention when it is being talked about. While listening to the presentation of Prima Vera by Bodicelli, I managed to simultaneously imagine my future, only the next 3-5 years, and it mostly involved working my way up at a major television network and becoming the head writer at some show. I hadn't really developed the show itself, but I did come up with a really stellar wardrobe for the professional years. Also, I am going to have a good haircut.
The Journey Begins!
The end of our day in Florence was happily welcomed and, even better, I got to see Margaret! Seeing people from home while abroad is admittedly a little strange. I've grown so used to giving small introductions before talking about friends from home, where Margaret and I automatically jumped into stories about Biz without any explanation. On the other hand, I often jump into stories about Biz without any explanation; it's funnier that way. The next day, Saturday, the group did some walking around the city before boarding our train to Milan. Even though the train ride was nearly 4 hours, I found it to be really enjoyable. You know why? Because we had a compartment! This has been my dream for a good many years-blame Harry Potter. You better believe that I ran Dementor jokes into the ground. (Oh, just you wait until I get to London...) At around 7:30 that evening, we arrived in Milan. Milano Centrale, the station, is massive-quite impressive and beautiful, actually. With the help of our good friend, Rick Steeves, we found our way to the hostel.
In case you were wondering where the most beautiful men in the world live, the answer is Milan. In fact, many of them work the front counter at La Cortada, the hostel where we stayed. Write that name down. When you go to Milan, you can see for yourself. Our stay in Milan can mostly be summed up in a few words: Food, Rain, Art, Daniel. I ate the best gnocchi I've ever had at an Asian run Italian restaurant that showed Rocky V all night. It rained literally every second we were there. I went through many socks. One of the highlights of my entire European experience was going to the Brera Galleria and seeing Caravaggio's Supper at Emmaus. I drooled a little bit. I wish I could e-mail my old Baroque Art History professor and tell her THAT I SAW IT. I wrote a final paper on it last fall. I got an A on it. But that's neither here nor there. I also saw some Gentileschi (papa, not daughter) a real live Rembrandt, and a good number of Dutch artists who I'm fond of. See, I'm much better at looking at art all by myself. Because when I start to zone out I can move onto the next piece. What did I forget? Oh, right. Daniel. All time favorite counter worker at La Cordata. We day tripped to Lake Como on Monday. One of the most beautiful places in the world? George Clooney lives there so it's a good possibility. Overall, our review of Milan is pretty glowing. And to make the stay even better, none of us got pick pocketed. Take that, child beggars.
Il Duomo, Milano
Tuesday we left for London. You know what they have in London? The English language, cheeseburgers and Starbucks. I cannot even begin to adequately describe my happiness. Italian food is really good. I don't think I have to present that as a late breaking observation. But as soon as something else was an option, it occurred to me how very very very much I miss my old eating habits. For example, I walked into a London convenience store and bought a bag of Doritos and a Coke and in one fell swoop, it was all gone. I drank Starbucks like it was my job. (They have their Christmas cups out, by the way-is it like that in America?) I ate bagels and ice cream and PEANUT BUTTER and Japanese food and there was a Burger King on every corner. It was good to be fake home.
What did I do in London? I saw stuff. We stayed with Becca's aunt and uncle who live maybe 2 blocks from Abbey Road studios. My first encounter with the famous crosswalk was a very here it is moment. What you might not know about Abbey Road is that it is actually a very busy area; watching people attempt to re-create the Beatles album cover is really entertaining because they are constantly dodging cars. I watched a group of 4 French boys take the shot over and over again because it was never perfect enough. It was a cold day. In spite of this, they committed fully and the 3rd boy in line went shoeless. And why not? The more we walked around the area, especially en route to the tube station, going across the Abbey Road crosswalk became very routine. I can only assume that the people in St. John's Wood (the neighborhood) hate tourists. Then again, I hate tourists so I just project this assumption on to all people the world over. You're welcome.
If you walk down the Thames, you can see everything that's ever been printed on a London postcard. We got off the tube at St. Paul, walked across the Millennium Bridge (Remember when the Death Eaters blew it up? In Harry Potter, not in life?) saw the Globe Theatre (Remember when Shakespeare worked there? That was real life) and then continued our walk until it ran us directly into Big Ben and Parliament. (Remember when V blew up Parliament? Also not in real life.) Parliament was flooded with war protestors-once again, it was good to be fake home. One complaint: I was not that impressed by Buckingham Palace. It was big, yeah. But you are essentially allowed to look through a cast iron gate and that's kind of it. It's a really nice gate, though, so I'll give them that.
We returned to Siena on Sunday evening, just in time for dinner. I was greeted by a screaming Margherita and a Spiderman face painted Arianna. I actually haven't laughed that hard in a long time.
Oh, and Margherita yelled at me because of an argument concerning the answer to 8 x 9. The answer is 72. Before I told that story to any of my friends, I did the problem on a calculator just to make sure. Being an English major has really paid off.
Lesson: Travel. You'll like it.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
How I'm staying in shape
"You're going to gain SO much weight when you go abroad!!!!"
Yes, this warning was given to me more than once before I embarked on my journey. My mom told me that when she spent a summer in Italy during her youth, she managed to gain 30 pounds. Impressive, I thought, and I almost made it a goal to come back looking completely unlike myself. As luck would have it, Siena makes it nearly impossible for this to happen. Everything is up hill both ways. There really isn't such a thing as an easy walk. And when I get to school each day, I am panting and sweating profusely, which is very attractive. In the early weeks of the semester I thought that this walk would kill me. But as time goes on, I become more accustomed to just how disgusting I get as a result of walking to school. Even though the interior of our school building is devastatingly cold, I always immediately rip off my coat and my first layer, wipe the sweat off my neck and back and then wait about 15 minutes. Then, I realize just how cold it is inside, look around at my classmates wearing coats and scarves, and ultimately decide to put all of aforementioned clothing back on. Sweating bullets.
I have picked up a new fitness regime, though, and it's all Margherita's fault. She loves watching Mila e Shiro. Have you ever seen it? Oh God, look into it. If you are an anime fan then you know it as Attacker You! and I only know that because I looked it up on Wiki. It's classic 80's anime with, of course, Italian dubbing. There came a point in the fall when Margherita stopped demanding Friends ("sempre Friends!" as Arianna would say) and made this switch to cartoons in the evening. That is when Mila e Shiro came along. The premise of the show is...well, I don't really know what the premise is but I do know that they play volleyball and I feel that there is some element of super heroine-ess that is attributed to their ability to play volleyball. Within about a week of watching the show, Margherita appeared with a volleyball. I mostly ignored it. Sometime at the end of last week I started playing with her before dinner, tossing the ball back and forth. Then we upgraded to actual passing. I think she was very impressed with my skills, as well she should be, because I played volleyball in high school for that whole year. Passing was not enough for her; she wanted to play actual volleyball games. The hilarity of the situation mostly consists of the fact that we play in their mom's office. It's really small. The walls are lined with framed diplomas and an entire shelf is dedicated to novelty coffee mugs. Everything is capable of being broken. And yet, I sit on a couch while Margherita bounces around while we "play volleyball." She wants to be just like Mila and Shiro so she demands that I pass the ball far away from her so she can make an epic attempt at getting it. She never gets it. But it's so epic when you get to slide around on the floor, you know? Last night she wanted to make a net so I helped her. She stacked up all of the Fischer-Price toys that were laying around and then she laid a stick across the top. After some attachments here and there it more or less acted as a barrier between the teams. And she always yells at me! She always want me to set the ball to Arianna. And in order to do that I get down on my knees and just kind of toss the ball. The best part about all of this is that the 3 of us get to eat dinner immediately after playing, and they both like to huff and puff at the table and really call attention to how hard practice way. And I do the same thing because I really like fitting in.
I understand that I should blogging about Venice and Florence, and the art I saw and the food I ate and things of that nature. But my host family is just so hilarious and great. Another example:
My birthday was on Tuesday. After dinner, Margherita and Arianna began whispering frantically. I knew that a surprise was on the horizon because I actually understand what they say, something they often forget. They ran around the table a few times (because they just do that) and then they turned off all the lights. Barbara led the parade with my cake and its one lit candle while the girls began a rousing rendition of Tanti Aguri. Fabio told me to make a wish and then I blew the candle out. They had gotten me a frutti di bosci cheesecake and as a decoration was a picture of Layla, a character from Margherita's favorite cartoon Winx, as well as the one character that looks most like me. Layla is black. The whole family sang an English only version of Happy Birthday as well. So to all of you haters who told me turning 21 while abroad would suck-you were wrong.
I'm watching John peruse the American Apparel website. I hope he buys that cardigan and the 8 others that look just like it.
October is nearly over! And today I had such a lovely stroll through Siena in search of traveling size toiletries. They do not exist, by the way. Tomorrow I embark on my fall break journey, beginning in Florence, going to Milan and then ending in LONDON! English speaking. Delightful. Speaking of languages (kind of) last night Arianna asked me if my cat bites. Bites="morse." I heard "morte." So in my head I heard "is your cat dead?" as opposed to "does your cat bite?" And i said NOOOO. which is the correct answer to both of those questions.
Lesson: Pack many wool socks if you are traveling in Italy in the fall time. Tile floors are a killer.
Yes, this warning was given to me more than once before I embarked on my journey. My mom told me that when she spent a summer in Italy during her youth, she managed to gain 30 pounds. Impressive, I thought, and I almost made it a goal to come back looking completely unlike myself. As luck would have it, Siena makes it nearly impossible for this to happen. Everything is up hill both ways. There really isn't such a thing as an easy walk. And when I get to school each day, I am panting and sweating profusely, which is very attractive. In the early weeks of the semester I thought that this walk would kill me. But as time goes on, I become more accustomed to just how disgusting I get as a result of walking to school. Even though the interior of our school building is devastatingly cold, I always immediately rip off my coat and my first layer, wipe the sweat off my neck and back and then wait about 15 minutes. Then, I realize just how cold it is inside, look around at my classmates wearing coats and scarves, and ultimately decide to put all of aforementioned clothing back on. Sweating bullets.
I have picked up a new fitness regime, though, and it's all Margherita's fault. She loves watching Mila e Shiro. Have you ever seen it? Oh God, look into it. If you are an anime fan then you know it as Attacker You! and I only know that because I looked it up on Wiki. It's classic 80's anime with, of course, Italian dubbing. There came a point in the fall when Margherita stopped demanding Friends ("sempre Friends!" as Arianna would say) and made this switch to cartoons in the evening. That is when Mila e Shiro came along. The premise of the show is...well, I don't really know what the premise is but I do know that they play volleyball and I feel that there is some element of super heroine-ess that is attributed to their ability to play volleyball. Within about a week of watching the show, Margherita appeared with a volleyball. I mostly ignored it. Sometime at the end of last week I started playing with her before dinner, tossing the ball back and forth. Then we upgraded to actual passing. I think she was very impressed with my skills, as well she should be, because I played volleyball in high school for that whole year. Passing was not enough for her; she wanted to play actual volleyball games. The hilarity of the situation mostly consists of the fact that we play in their mom's office. It's really small. The walls are lined with framed diplomas and an entire shelf is dedicated to novelty coffee mugs. Everything is capable of being broken. And yet, I sit on a couch while Margherita bounces around while we "play volleyball." She wants to be just like Mila and Shiro so she demands that I pass the ball far away from her so she can make an epic attempt at getting it. She never gets it. But it's so epic when you get to slide around on the floor, you know? Last night she wanted to make a net so I helped her. She stacked up all of the Fischer-Price toys that were laying around and then she laid a stick across the top. After some attachments here and there it more or less acted as a barrier between the teams. And she always yells at me! She always want me to set the ball to Arianna. And in order to do that I get down on my knees and just kind of toss the ball. The best part about all of this is that the 3 of us get to eat dinner immediately after playing, and they both like to huff and puff at the table and really call attention to how hard practice way. And I do the same thing because I really like fitting in.
I understand that I should blogging about Venice and Florence, and the art I saw and the food I ate and things of that nature. But my host family is just so hilarious and great. Another example:
My birthday was on Tuesday. After dinner, Margherita and Arianna began whispering frantically. I knew that a surprise was on the horizon because I actually understand what they say, something they often forget. They ran around the table a few times (because they just do that) and then they turned off all the lights. Barbara led the parade with my cake and its one lit candle while the girls began a rousing rendition of Tanti Aguri. Fabio told me to make a wish and then I blew the candle out. They had gotten me a frutti di bosci cheesecake and as a decoration was a picture of Layla, a character from Margherita's favorite cartoon Winx, as well as the one character that looks most like me. Layla is black. The whole family sang an English only version of Happy Birthday as well. So to all of you haters who told me turning 21 while abroad would suck-you were wrong.
I'm watching John peruse the American Apparel website. I hope he buys that cardigan and the 8 others that look just like it.
October is nearly over! And today I had such a lovely stroll through Siena in search of traveling size toiletries. They do not exist, by the way. Tomorrow I embark on my fall break journey, beginning in Florence, going to Milan and then ending in LONDON! English speaking. Delightful. Speaking of languages (kind of) last night Arianna asked me if my cat bites. Bites="morse." I heard "morte." So in my head I heard "is your cat dead?" as opposed to "does your cat bite?" And i said NOOOO. which is the correct answer to both of those questions.
Lesson: Pack many wool socks if you are traveling in Italy in the fall time. Tile floors are a killer.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)