Resolutions

I know it's not New Year's yet, but here's a few things I want to work on.

1. Let shit go. I hold on to things for much longer than I should, and honestly, it's not doing anyone any good. Mostly me. Bottling up all this anger and aggression is just worthless, I hate feeling this way and I never want to feel like this again.

2. Go to the gym. Pretty self explanatory. I want to take better care of myself. Yeah, physical appearance is a factor, but I'm tired of being tired. I want to be able to run forever.

3. Keep up with the work. This finals week has crushed me because I was behind.

4. Make more art. This one should be easy. I'm taking 4 studios before I graduate.

5. Learn to cook healthy. And well.


That's all I've got for the moment.

"You're an angel, Baby"

Those are the last words I heard before I fell asleep last night. It's hard to go to sleep unhappy if that's the last thing on my mind. It's hard to drift off without a smile on my face. I like falling asleep next to you, I like waking up next to you, I like being around you.

You'll drive up the two hours because I've had a bad day. Or if I've gotten bad news. Or if I've had a close call. Or if I want a hug. You'll drive up and miss out on games, parties, races. And you say it doesn't bother you. You'll kick off your shoes, empty your pockets, and flop on the bed. I'll rub your back and you'll rest your head on my shoulder and say, "You're an angel, baby."

Those might be my favorite four words you say. I've never been that for someone, that's not a name I've been given. Sweetheart, honey, love, gorgeous, beautiful... I've had those. I like that this is different. I like how it feels like you mean it when you say it. It's all about your voice.

You don't say it all that often, which makes it feel more sincere. If you're sick and I bring you water and some medicine because I can hear you coughing while I'm making breakfast, you look up at me and say those four words. I bend down and kiss your forehead, and smile as I walk back out. If you're restless and can't fall asleep, and I let the TV run with poker because it'll give you something to do other than think about how awake you are, you'll say it to me. I roll over and burrow under the covers to block out the light, and smile while I drift off.

I love that you care about me, that you'll smile for no reason, that you'll hold my hand, put your arm around me, watch musicals with me and my crazy roommates, and put up with my constant "What do you want to do for dinner/lunch/whatever?"

I think it's little things like that phrase that makes me as happy as I am. Granted, things aren't always perfect, we have our moments, but I just like where we are. I'm glad you were patient. I'm glad you weren't insistent. I'm glad that you just waited and were a friend to me when I was lost and confused and didn't know what to do. I'm glad you were quiet when I needed to get my head straight. If not, I don't think I would have known how good this could be.

It's a long road, we're taking it a day at a time. I can't wait to see where it takes us.

Yay!

Yay boyfriend : )

Oops

So remember how two posts ago I was all ahead of schedule on that paper?

Yeah, I'm finishing it now. 5 hours before it's due.

Go me.

Conformist

Dear World,

I am sorry to inform you that I have caved. I, after almost 21 years of my life of hating them, own a pair of Uggs.

I blame my mother. She loves them, but not the way that obnoxious college sorority girls love them. She wears them under her jeans, not rolled, and only when it is cold enough to warrant them outside. This being said, she also owns 3 pairs. One year, my dad went out and bought her a new set of the ankle high in light tan, but unfortunately they were a little too big. Into the closet they went to wait for someone to get the motivation or time to exchange them.

A year and a half later, my mother is rummaging through the hall closet, finds them, and throws them at me. "They're comfortable! They're warm!" she said. "HELL NO!" I said, but took them with me anyway, thinking that at the very least I would just let them hang out in my closet until they hopefully deteriorated into nothing.

I was unpacking some stuff this morning, putting some things away and I stumbled across the Ugg box. I picked it up, checking to see the size. It's a 9, there is no way that this could possibly fit. "I know!" I thought so cleverly to myself, "I'll try them on, and then they'll be too small! My mom will have to take them back!" Oh poor, poor choice. They fit like a glove. They're fuzzy, they're squishy, they're warm. They hug your feet. As my mother says, they're happiness for your feet. And, on top of it all, they make my feet look little.

My good ladies and gentlemen, I like them. I... I may even wear them outside the apartment! I may wear them to class! I may go skipping down the streets singing to everyone the newfound joy of Uggs! Ok, maybe not the last one, but gosh darn it, they are comfy.

That, my dear people, is my story.

Procrastination. Possibly #2.

Hey, be proud of me. I'm actually ahead of schedule for schoolwork.

Hence why I'm probably not too upset at the amount of Spongebob and Food Network I've watched over the past few days.

I started research for a 750 word paper a good week before it's due. I have books checked out, I've read them in full.

Be impressed.

I now know more about James Van Der Zee than I think I ever expected to. All in all, he's a pretty cool guy. Trained originally as a concert violinist and pianist, he stumbled across photography in the early 1900s, and ended up documenting the majority of the Harlem Renaissance. He's photographed all kinds of people, from Florence Mills to Bill Cosby. It's kind of awesome. The photos themselves are beautiful, he air brushed and touched up almost all of his photos. His images counter stereotypes of the day, depicting African Americans as refined, graceful, and proud as opposed to the happy-go-lucky slums that the average American envisioned.

This African American Art History class is a lot more interesting than I thought it would ever be. Granted, I like learning new interesting facts, mostly because I like spitting them out to other people later on, but the subject material is really captivating. Some of the paintings are simply gorgeous, and the photography that we've encountered is stunning. We talk about what makes a painting "African American" and if African American artists have an obligation to display their ethnicity in their artwork. We've learned about the history surrounding the artists. It's amazing.

It's just an interesting class, the only thing that is a problem is that the professor believes that the class runs for an hour, not the 50 minutes we're alloted. While it may be only 10 minutes, it's still really irritating. I start losing concentration right at 12:05, and by 12:15 when she lets us out, I've lost all interest at all and have spent more time thinking about what I can eat for lunch and what is at home.

Either way, I'm writing now to put off the whole writing it later. We'll see.

Later all.

A few thoughts

I'm on a downswing.

It's a pretty consistent cycle, up and down, caring and not. It's not even a major downswing, just a hiccup.

Now, why do I want to write this? Maybe I feel guilty that I haven't written in ages, and that the things I have written have been sort of half finished thoughts. Maybe it's just to kill some time so I don't have to work just yet.

I like to pick fights. Every so often, I like starting an argument. If things are going too smoothly, if we're trying to get through a rough patch and it's not getting better, I'll start something. If I don't like you, I'll start something.

Although, it does take an awful lot for me not to like someone.

I think sometimes I'm too judgmental. Then I think I'm much too understanding.

I get angry quickly.

I hate hypocrites. I am one.

I think too much.

I also have a bad habit of holding on to people who make me feel horridly about myself.

Coffee makes me feel hollow. It makes my heart beat too fast and makes everything feel like an echo. I shouldn't drink it, but I do.


I think that's it for today.

Revelation

I have come to the conclusion, that no matter who is around or how many, or who strokes your hair and pats your back and hands you tissues, you will always, always, grieve alone. There is no way to share it or for others to alleviate it, we can only absorb it and watch, and hope that it stops hurting soon.

The Beginning of the End

The start of my senior year has been genuinely good. I mean that my roommates are good, my classes are good, my apartment is good... everything seems to be going smoothly. It kind of makes me wonder what's going to go horribly wrong.

Anyway. My roommates are pretty great. Two of them I absolutely adore and the third is growing on me. It's a good apartment, I have my own room, with my own bathroom, and my own queen sized bed to pass out in every night. The location is maybe 4 or 5 blocks from campus, at least the Old College/Recitation Hall area, which is where most of my classes are. It's about a 10-15 minute walk, which is good exercise in my book.

So far the professor for my American Art History class is pretty good. She doesn't seem to be terribly wrapped up in expectations, the work load is pretty light, and she's a good lecturer. The 50 minutes fly. It also helps that I know a bunch of people in the class.

My African American Art professor is blatantly new at this. She's assigned more work than necessary and has kind of high expectations for a class of 10 people. However, the final project is right up my alley (we're curating an imaginary exhibition) and the material is really interesting so far even if she does include some random unnecessary information in lecture.

Color Mixing and Matching, while tedious, is not so bad. I know a few people in the class, and Hilton is not as scary as I thought he would be. However, we do have to organize 314 color sheets from lightest to darkest disregarding hue. Trying to decide if royal blue is darker than red is starting to make my brain twitch.

20th Century Italian lit is actually really good. I forgot how much my brain misses Italian, and the class seems like a good group of people and the books will be interesting. Plus I love Prof. Salsini, she's awesome, even if she is enforcing the formal Lei on us out of nowhere.

Traditional Japanese Printmaking hasn't met yet. Hopefully it'll be good, at the very least I have my best friend (and roommate) in the class with me.

So far so good, we'll see how the semester progresses.

Procrastination

Oh I know you're surprised at the title.

Today is Tuesday. Tomorrow, as we were taught in grade school, is Wednesday. Wednesday is the day that I am officially back at University of Delaware, and I could not be more excited if I tried.

I'm moving into an apartment with a great set of girls. My best friend at school, Katie, is one of them, along with a girl Mary, who is very sweet. I don't know Meghan all that well yet, but we've got time, right? I have my own room with an attached bathroom, I can fit in a queen sized bed with both my art desk and regular school desk, and I still have more room than I know what to do with. The closet is half empty because I don't have enough clothing to fill it. More than half empty actually. I. Love. It.

Mostly I just want to be out of home. I like it alright, I love my family, but I'm just looking forward to my last year too much to want to be here when I could be the hour away. Surprisingly enough there haven't been too many fights in the household, I guess I'm not doing anything to tick them off as of late. It's kind of surprising how one aspect of your life can control the overall attitude. I dunno.

Mostly I'm just rambling because I don't want to find boxes for the great piles of crap that have managed to appear while I was cleaning out my desk. I'm a terrible pack rat. It's horrid. I can't throw anything away, not even the floppy disk that probably has one presentation on it from 8th grade. It's a problem. I've found old journals and notebooks, poems and stories. It's been hysterical for me to reread what I've done over the years. Thankfully both my prose and my handwriting have improved. It's been weird, though. I don't feel as old as I am.

Sometimes I swear I'm 16. Then I double check and say no no, I'm 18. Then I triple check and say holy shit I'm almost 21. When did I stop mentally aging? Sometimes I still feel like that awkward high school girl, when I know in so many ways I've changed and diverged from her. In a lot of ways I feel boring. I get bored of telling people the same story, even if they've never heard it before.

"I'm a senior at University of Delaware. Yeah, it's a really big school. I'm an Art Conservation major, no we don't hug trees. It's kind of cool. It's a small group." And by the time I get done with that I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'm tired of explaining what artcon is, I'm tired of telling people what I want to do with the rest of my life, because honestly I don't know what it is I want. I don't like talking to people who don't have some kind of passion, I don't like talking to people who like to get trashed and brag about it, I don't like having to explain everything about myself. I don't know if it's just that I think people are wasting my time, or if I just don't want to talk about me. My sister is great at it. The whole world seems to listen when she talks, and she can get a conversation going and keep it rolling. I on the other hand, like to sort of sit back and listen.

No wonder I get passed up.

My friends can't understand it. Guys I've dated can't understand it. Why would someone look me over? Well, I guess it's because I'm a pretty face that doesn't talk. Not in groups. I'm better in one on one, I'm more of a personal person, and I don't like to waste my life story on people who couldn't care less and are entranced by this beautiful dark girl sitting next to me. There's a lot in this world that I don't understand, and why I totally shut down when Steph's around is one of them. I try for a little bit, but she's the master, so I just step to the side and give up.

I didn't really intend to talk about my shortcomings as a human being in the social world. I think anyone who reads this who knows me knows that it takes a while for me to actually come on out and show who I am. And congrats, you all have passed the test, you're people I'm comfortable with, albeit naturally awkward.

Later, folks.

Oy

Alright, I'm far less motivated than I was at 6 am this morning. However, I feel like I haven't done any kind of update in forever, so I'm going to just go for it and hope for the best.

I've come to a crossroads of sorts. It's my senior year, and it means that I'll have to be making some kind of life decision, and soon. I think I've already made it, it's just a matter of implementing and hoping I don't fall flat on my face.

For the past 3 years I've slowly pinned, pushed, and buried myself into a place I don't exactly belong. I had resigned myself to conservation because I figured if I can't create, I'll conserve. And I was quite convinced I couldn't create. All of my projects over the past 3 years have been half finished sketches, overly emo watercolors, and copies for class. I've stifled my creativity to the point where I felt like I couldn't even write a creative essay, a short story, or even a few lines of prose. I didn't even like my signature. But I had told my creative self, "Sorry, you'll have to wait until I'm 50 with enough money to build my dream studio and space to fill with all my half-assed ideas."

Bill's given me a new look at things. He's given me a new breath of life, saying, "Hey, wait a minute, there's potential here. There's insight. There's something that speaks to people." And with that my little half crippled gasping for breath creative self seized a chance to poke out its head. To slowly work it's way back out, to push through the cracks and the locks my practical side had placed upon it. And suddenly, it's broken free. I look at things differently. I look at colors and textures, the way light catches on carved wood, the shine of brass rods, the shadows and highlights of everyday objects. I let my hand draw whatever it feels like and I don't scribble it out if I don't like it or give up on it halfway through. I've drawn myself a few times, I've drawn my feet, my hands, arms, back. If it's there I'll try it. I want to shape and sculpt and carve away. This project Bill gave me has given me the opportunity to just go with it. The best part of it all is that I don't have to stop and ask for how to do something, I don't have to wait for someone else to get to the next step. This is something I understand, something that I can look at and say "I need to take that edge down more" or "I like the way the marks from the chisel look" and I can move on. I can push through without regard for time. I have blisters on my hands, splinters in my skin, and paint on my face, and I have not felt this free and happy in what feels like a long time. It's not something dependent on other people, it's not something that I worry about other people liking. It's like taking a breath of fresh air after being inside for too long and feeling the sun warm your skin.

I've made up my mind. I'm going to get my master's in art after college. I'm hoping to apply as soon as possible, if not for the fall, then for the spring. I want to major in sculpture, and go back and get my master's in art conservation for objects. I want a two bedroom apartment to myself, where I can paint and build in one room, and sleep in the other. I can do this. I will do this. I don't care how long it takes me or how many jobs I have to hold down to get through. I found something that makes me happy and I am going to fight like hell to get it.

That's about it, I think. Welcome to it.

Whoooosh

Expect something later today. I can't guarantee it'll be any good, or make any sense, but I want to write what's floating in my head, and I will do it.

To work with me.

Overabundance of Excitement

Today is a very special day, ladies and gentlemen.

Today, I received my very first art commission. What does this mean? Well, let's just explain!

It means that my boss, after seeing some of my art, has shown me a space that he wants to fill in the shop and said "fill it." Followed by "I'll pay for all the materials. We have connections with stained glass workers and metal workers, so go all out." I took the measurements, I'm scheming away, and I have to have a design and material list ready by Monday.

I.
Am.
SO EXCITED.

I can already see it in my head, certain twists, curves, lines, blue stained glass hanging over windows (if allowed, if not, the design can be altered) all I need to do is put it on paper.

Wish me luck :)

Fighting for Air/ Washington DC

It's recently occurred to me that holy hell I get sick a lot. Not like maybe catch a cold kind of sick a lot, but full on hospital visits at least once a year. That, to me, says that I'm doing something wrong. I just don't know what it is. I'm eating healthy, I go to the gym, I work in a physically challenging environment, and those who know me know I love my sleep and try to get 8 hours every night. So what am I doing wrong that my body decides to just mess with me like this?

Since the end of last month, I have not had a single day of feeling just fine and dandy. For the first two weeks I was continually exhausted, and my mom thought I might have mono again. I slept pretty much for an entire weekend to get past the exhaustion, but the next weekend I wake up with a cough, which, even though I was taking basic stuff like mucinex to get rid of, got worse and now has settled quite nicely in my lungs. There's a weird ache in my chest and I can't breathe without coughing or wheezing, which is really just a barrel of fun. On Tuesday of last week my entire face hurt (which was almost amusing because of the joke "does your face hurt?" joke) because of some wacked out sinus pain. On Friday night, whatever it was dropped down into the chest because every time I tried to breathe it was like sucking through a straw.

Finally, yesterday, I went to the doctor. This marks twice within a week. She asked what the other doctor had said ("It's probably one of those weird summer viruses. Push the fluids and take some cough medicine with codine to help you sleep"). Then she listened to my lungs, nodded, and said, "We'll fix that." Two minutes later she came back with an inhaler. Not just one inhaler, actually, because she wrote a prescription for another. And a z-pack. Woo antibiotics! Apparently her plan is to effectively napalm my lungs. Either way, I guess it's working because I woke up this morning and could breathe without hacking up a lung or making strange noises.

Anyway, this past weekend I went down to DC (probably not the best idea, but I was hell bent on going). It. Was. AMAZING. I really like DC, despite its heat and humidity during the summer. I'd visited before, but I hadn't really used the subway system or felt like a non-tourist before. I think it also helped that I drove down instead of taking the train (I'm sorry, $150 round trip? Surely you must be joking, public transportation.) so I got to see more of the outskirts of the city. Friday night we basically just hung out in Brooke's apartment, ate Chinese food and watched Funny Face. Saturday we woke up kind of early (930, while late for both Brooke and I, is kind of early by the collegiate standard) and headed out to the Mall. You have to walk through the AU campus to catch a bus to Tenleytown, where we stopped at Zburger and had a healthy breakfast/lunch of milkshakes and frieds, then hopped on the subway to the Smithsonians. We went to the Museum of Natural History, because we both find those types of museums to be more entertaining. While a good art museum is fantastic, you can never, ever, ever touch, and Natural History museums tend to be more... finger friendly and you can interact a little more closely. Anyway, after the Mall we headed to Dupont, which is a really cute little part of DC with nice little shops and places to sit. Unfortunately it was ungodly hot and we were both pretty gross, so after about a half hour there we headed back to the apartment to shower and get ready for The Dark Knight. We caught the 830 show, and I really liked it a lot. It was sufficiently creepy with a little bit of hope thrown in there, I don't know what they're going to do about sequels because Ledger is dead, but I think he did an excellent job as The Joker. All in all, I think I'd even buy it when it comes out on DVD.

We got lunch on Sunday at a cafe on campus, and then I drove back up home. I had no idea how big of a state Maryland is until I spent a good hour and a half driving in it. I remember thinking "DEAR GOD AM I OUT OF MARYLAND YET?!?!?!" because once I hit Delaware it's practically home sweet home.

Back to bed with me, Sickies gotta rest.

BEST. MUSIC. DOWNLOAD. EVER.

Europe: The Final Countdown.

NOI'MNOTROCKINGOUTTOITRIGHTNOW.... >.>

/geeky moment

Good Samaritan

Yesterday I saved a baby robin from drowning. It had accidentally somehow landed in the pool, I'm not sure how it happened, I didn't see that part. All I know is I saw weird ripples in the water, and heard some lame attempt at flapping. I looked over to the source, and saw Honey (my bunny eating golden retriever) staring down at the poor thing. I climbed into the pool, skimmer in hand, and scooped up the little bird, then put it down in the shade of a bush in our neighbor's yard. I figured at the very least the bird wouldn't be eaten by my dog. An hour later, it was gone.

Strange how you can feel such sympathy for another living creature. My brother didn't even move, he just stared at it like it wasn't his problem. And honestly, I'm no big fan of birds, I've been pooped on by them, I've had my car used as a regular restroom by them (they like to sit on the side view mirrors and look at themselves), I find them loud, dirty, and really quite mean. But for some reason, seeing that poor little robin flapping away in the water, I felt like I had to help it, even if it would later go on to wake me up at the crack of dawn singing, pooh all over my car, and leave worms in my driveway. Maybe I won't be a crappy mom after all.

Whoooo

Man, I suck as a blogger. I'm pretty bad at keeping up to date with this whole... posting thing.

Basic rundown I guess.

Back at the woodshop, been there about a month. Back to the same old tricks, sanding, veneering, hauling stuff, gluing stuff, making panels (NO I DO NOT MAKE CHAIRS), staining and the like. Learned how to hand carve, not particularly well, but I'm pretty damn pleased with what I've done. Also will be learning how to use the spray gun for finishing, which is also cool. Yay chemicals.

Artistically, I've kind of been half heartedly sketching. I've been working on people and dear god does that suck. I'm pretty sucky so far. Maybe I'll get around to drawing myself, I've done one or two, but I tend to draw out my imperfections when I draw me, so they... um.. look kind of ugly. Anywho... hopefully Bossman will look at some of my stuff and let me build it. I have kind of a cool idea for a stained glass piece. Although where the hell I'd find the material or the funds to do so I will never know.

Socially... most of my friends are in different states. I've been out to NJ to visit the one and only Rob, which was simply wonderful. We went and saw Wall-E which I thought was cute. And I really want to buy a little robotic one. Mostly because it's spazzy. Like me. I've also been down to UD to visit Vince and help him move in for the summer, as well as to kind of half-assedly look at my apartment. I've got to really get working on that. And get down there to see the one Miss Beautiful Katie. Because really, who doesn't love her? I also got out to Philly for a day, visiting an old high school friend. Saw Temple University for the first time, and ate some Mexican food. It was ok, we watched Borat, which was also ok. Better than I thought, but maybe not my favorite. It was more fun catching up for 2 hours at a Starbucks. I've hung out with Ronen a couple more times since, we've got a plan to watch Titanic sometime later too (apparently one of the other greatest movies of all time). I'm heading down to DC to see Brooke this weekend (And The Dark Knight, which I am so excited about) which'll be fun too. I haven't been around DC as a non-tourist. Or with a non-tourist. And I am either going to get up to NYC or have Kate down. Hopefully soon. And Katie L will be back from Europe any day now. THANK GOD. It sucks having friends so far away, especially with gas costing what it does. Thank goodness for moneys and a job. How I loves them.

Anywho, I guess that's basically what's up right now... besides my lungs trying violently to break free from my chest. That's fun. Really.

And I'm officially a coffee-addict. Two French vanilla creamers, three packets of sugar. Stirred.

NaNoWriMo

I know it's a little early to be thinking about, but I've come up with a new plot for November. I'm pretty excited about it... and I want to start writing nooooow......

Venezia

Or: My favorite place on earth.

I know, Ladies and Gentlemen, it's been over a month, possibly two, since I've been in Venice. But here it is, your very own post on my favorite place. Just so you all know, this is taken pretty much verbatim from my hard copy journal (I keep it because I am vain and am absolutely in love with my cursive handwriting).


April 28th, 2008

For the past 4 days we've been in Venice, and I remember exactly why this is my favorite city on earth. Richard (program director) says it's because of the sun reflecting off the water, and I agree. I think the water ripples and makes the whole city shimmer, casting a veil of effervescent light over the city. It combines some of my favorite things: sea water, boats, and beautiful old buildings. I could spend forever here. I love all of the city, I love its appeal to the masses, the way the city thrives and plses with life during the day. I love its intimate corners and alleys, the way it sparkles at night, the classical quartets and quintets in St Mark's at night and how the whole square transforms into an ad hoc ballroom after the sun sets and the tourists leave the city. I love the dirt on the walls and the seaweed on the stairs, the boats weaving through canals and the traghetti bumping into the stations and stops. Some people love this city only at night, when only the Italians and genuine Venetians are left. I love this city not despite of its flaws but because of them. This is the only city that is more magical and more real with every passing day I spend here.

We left Friday morning excruciatingly early. I woke up at 6 and was out of the house by 645/650. We were supposed to catch a 710 bus from Siena to Florence and catch the 915 train from there. However, since Friday was a Holiday (April 25th is Liberation Day, or the day that the Allies took Rome) the normal schedule didn't apply.So we got to the Bus Station and there was no bus. Mike, his mom and mom's friend took a taxi to get to the Train Station in Siena. They took a train from Siena to Florence to Bologna to Padova. Jane, Viv and I got in Richard's car and drove to Florence to catch a train to Bologna then to Padova. We all met up again at the Scrovegni Chapel where we had a small picnic Lunch. The 5 of us (Mike, Jane, Richard, Viv and I) all went into the chapel to see the Giotto frescoes. This was especially exciting because I got to see the fresco I copied up close and personal. Freaking Exciting. It made the whole chapel more of a personal experience and brought be closer to it. I want to go back to the Uffizzi at some point so I can see the egg tempera I copied as well. We also saw the Church of St Anthony, who is my favorite Saint (patron of Lost items. He's pretty much the only person I pray to.) The church was ok, I had no real connection with it short of it was cool to see my favorite saint. After Saint Anthony's we headed to Venice by a local train. We got in around 530 and checked into our Hotel the Dtella Alpina (right near the Train Station).

We had 3 singles and a double, and somehow I ended up with the double all to myself. We met at 630 to take a boat ride around teh city. Unfortunately it started raining just as awe left the hotel. It also dropped about 10 degrees so it was really very cold (I also didn't dress for it to be cold). We dropped Mike, Mom, and Friend off at St Mark's to chech in and drove around for a bit. We picked them up about half an hour later and headed to dinner at the Trattoria Tre Archi at about 8. The food was really quite good, I had a veggie calzone. Afer we decided to go out, but by the time I got to the Rialto I was having shooting pains in my stomach and decided to walk back home on my own. I woke up the next day at 830 and got breakfast and waited for the others.

We all met up and headed out to San Marco to start sightseeing. We got coffee at Florian's, the oldest Cafe in Europe. A cappuccino cost 4 euro. Ridiculous. After, we hopped on a boat to go to the Peggy Guggenheim Museum which was amazing. She collected a lot of contemporary people like Dali and Picasso. It was really incredible some of the art she had in her house. After we went to San Giorgio but we couldn't go up the tower, and after that everything gets kind of hazy. The whole weekend has been full of changed plans. Honestly I can't remember what we did that day vs what we did today. At the end of it, we had seen Saint Rocco's, which is where I had a panic attack because everyone had left the church and I am terrified of being forgotten and left behind. We also saw the Ducal Palace, went up the tower at San Giorgio, saw glassblowing, shopped, and saw the Peggy. We also went to the Accademia. Last night Mike and I walked Mom and Friend back to their hotel. After, we sat in San Marco for a bit drinking prosecco and listening to quartets. It was spectacular.

The next day we left for Siena, and the rest is history (hopefully to be posted about later on.)

Later!

A little change of pace

Alright, I've done it. I deleted my lj.

In all honesty, I never used the thing anyway, not that I use this one more than the other, but really, it seemed rather pointless to keep myself attached to it. Plus there are just too many things I just don't want on there anymore, so I guess it makes sense to just delete it. Sweep out and what not.

Anyway, that means that this blog will be taking on the additional role of every day life. Sorry 'bout it, folks, but sometimes I need to vent to an anonymous group, and you all happen to be the lucky ones. I'll still keep you all posted on places I've been (note to self, remember post on Venice, Philly, and the last week in Italy) but you'll also get updates on stuff I'm doing at work (like hand carving and learning how to use the stupid stain thinger). So, just so you all know, that's what's heading your way : )

Later all.

Yeah Yeah Yeah, I know

Hey all,

Finally back in the States (ok, that's a lie, I've been back for over two weeks now. Yes, my luggage is still unpacked. Did you expect anything else?)

That's about it. Thought I'd let y'all know.

Transportation Revelation

I finally, finally, got to experience just how bad Italian transportation can be. And dear god, ladies and gentlemen, it can be horrid.

After we left Siena we headed down to Rome for two nights, after which we traveled down to Naples, Pompeii, and Capri. Getting there was absolutely no problem what so ever, we had a comfortable cabin, there was no one on the train, the boat left on time, all that jazz. Getting back to Rome, however, was a different story.

To begin with, I believe that yesterday set a new record for number of different modes of transportation taken in one day. To get from the top of the mountain down to the dock, we had to take the Funiculare (cable car, and yes, I was humming "Funiculi funicula" the entire time we were on it.) It was crowded, and smelly, and just awful. After, we got onto the boat that ferries back and forth between Naples and Capri, which was just fine. From the dock in Naples we had to take a tram to the train station, from which we took a train to Rome, and then a bus to the hotel. I know. Nuts.

But the most interesting part is the trains. Thusfar, I have had no problems with Italian trains. Maybe one is a little late. Maybe one is a little dirty. But on the whole, fantastic. Yesterday, not so much. The train that we were taking was delayed first five minutes, then 10, then 20, then 25, then 40, then 45. When it finally rolled into the station, it was an hour late. We all clamored on to the cars, shuffling here and there trying to find the appropriate seats. Once settled, we realized there was no A/C on the train. Fun. More waiting in the sweltering heat of Southern Italy. Then, behind me, a small child of about seven starts wailing. And I mean wailing, bawling, tears flowing, whining at the top of her lungs: Noooooooonnaaaaaaaaa *cry cry sniff* Nooooooonnaaaaaaaaaaaaaa *cough gasp wail* non voooooo-ooo-ooooglio partiiiiiire Naaaaapoliii-iii-iiiiiii. I could have killed her. (translation: Graaaaaaaaaaaaaandmaaaaaa I don't want to leave Naples!!") OH MY GOD CHILD. You are going to see your grandmother again. I promise. It's not like you're leaving forever. And after about 20 minutes of this, her younger sister joins in, in a deeper, more obnoxious cry-whine. Another 10 minutes go by, all of us on our last nerves (Mike at this point is laughing at the fact that all I want to do is turn around and whack this kid) when the conductor comes on and says "Oh sorry, the train doesn't work. You'll have to take a different one." Blank stares all around. Shit.

So we book off the train and are trying to figure out what train to take. Track 19, 3 tracks over from ours, is a train to Rome. Salvation. We start scrambling over the tracks, being yelled at and cheered on by security personnel. Finally we climb onto the train, it's a free for all for seats. Once settled, I find, much to my displeasure, that another lady had reserved the seat I was in. So I moved. Only to find at the next stop that I was taking someone else's seat, and that the lady who had displaced me before was a liar and didn't actually have that seat at all. I ended up a car down from where my bag was, passed out in a cabin with Mike and Richard and three Irish people. At last, at 9, we got back to Rome.

Oh Italy. I'll miss you.

Last Day : (

It's true. It's the last day in Siena, and I'm really very upset about it. We've been saying goodbye to all the owners of the places we're regulars, like the coffee shop by school, the local sandwich place, and my favorite bar. We've been saying bye to teachers and buildings, and I have one whole bag packed and ready to go for tomorrow morning (it also ways about the same as a 10 year old child, but hey, that's fine right?) While packing I realized just how much stuff I didn't need. There were shirts and sweaters, pants and shoes that never even made it out of the drawers until now, outfits that went unworn, jackets that just sucked up space. So much waste. I really only needed about 10 shirts and 4 pairs of pants, tops. The only thing that would definitely stay is the number of shoes. How I love them (I've managed to increase my collection by three, but I'm getting rid of 2 pairs so it's almost even. Really.)

Anyway, it's just about time for my last class, and my last instructor goodbye. Last note, I must buy flowers for my host mom/family. Or something at the very least.

DON'T WANT TO LEAAAAAAAAAAAVE : (

A presto, so very very presto.

Homesickness, Pigeons, BEST PARTY EVER

I know I promised you all a little something on Venice, but really I just haven't been up for it. I promise that at some point your Venice needs will be fulfilled, but right now, I just want to write about all kinds of other things. I've only got about 4 days left in Siena, and only 10 more before I fly back to the States, and it all just feels so unreal. Also, this post is going to be disjointed. Deal with it : P

I miss home. After all this time, after all of the things I've seen, I miss home more than anything. As much as I want to stay here, and as much as I love this city and the people, I want to go home. I want to go back to the familiar, I want to drive my car, eat at a barbeque, crash in my own room, see my parents, hang out with my friends, be crazy and silly and have all of it back. I miss you guys, despite my lack of writing, I've missed you terribly. It's like a little bit of me is missing, and I can't wait to see you all again. I want to walk down Main Street, eat a muffin, drink some bubble tea, lay out on the Green, order late night food, watch Paula Deen, sip mixed drinks, and play Guitar Hero until my fingers turn into little throbbing knots.

*sigh*

Anyway, I've also discovered why you shouldn't mess around with pigeons. I was walking up at the Fortress the other day (the Fortress is this massive Medicean thing that they built when they took over Siena some however many years ago, and has recently become my favorite hobo nap spot. Seriously, take up a bench and pass out in the sun for a few hours, it's glorious), and I saw a pigeon strutting about on the sidewalk. Now, normally I let pigeons be, but this particular day I decided I wanted to chase it. Well, little did I know that the pigeon was packing. The little bugger pooped right on my arm. Disgusting. I hate pigeons.

Last little note of business, that I know you all are dying to hear (or not, really). Jane, Viv, and I "crashed" the Wrap Party for James Bond: Quantum of Solace two nights ago. We had been walking by one of the main camps where they had all their equipment and the trucks and one of the Brits heard us speaking English. He asked us what we were doing later that night, and then invited us to come stop by the wrap party if we wanted. It took all of three seconds for us to say yes. At about 10 we showed up outside Palazzo Pubblico, the main town hall in Piazza del Campo and didn't see the guy Steve that was supposed to let us in, so we sat in the piazza, debating what we should do. Finally, after a few swigs of vodka, we got up the nerve to just ask if we could go in. And they let us. This whole party was closed to the public, free food, free drinks, live band, in one of the oldest and coolest buildings in the city. We crashed the biggest party of the year in Siena. They held it in the courtyard, so all you had was open sky above, the place had probably a good 150 people in it.

We stood awkwardly for a little bit next to a pillar, then got up the nerve to go and get some drinks. Viv and I hit the bar while Jane went to the bathroom, and we ended up talking to some Brits and Jane met a really nice family from Canada. We found some other Americans, part of the film crew, actually I have no idea what they did, but one of the guys had been the Director of Photography for a different film, so I'm assuming it went along those kinds of lines. We also saw a whole bunch of the big important people, like the executive producer and some other guy who was the head of something else (he was American, that's all I really remember). The band was so so, but the songs they picked were awesome and we spent the entire night dancing (my feet are killing me now, four hours of dancing in heels never goes well). They ended up kicking us all out around 2, after which we headed back to this one groups room to drink some wine and hang out. Around 4 or so I passed out, I was so tired I just couldn't hack it anymore, and at 7:30 my host mom called my phone wondering where I was. Thankfully, they got us a cab to go home, and I finally walked in at 8, apologizing profusely for not calling and letting her know where I was.

Loved it.

A presto!

One Month Left, and a Brief Recap of a Roman Vacation

Congratulations, you are now all experiencing the most consistant updating I've done in a long long long time. Once a day, for 2 days, well done.

Anyway, Today (and I capitalize for emphasis) is the 29th of April. In exactly one month at approximately this same time, I will be on a plane headed back for the Philadelphia International Airport. I have less than 1 month to finish all the things that I want to do in Siena, we have a week of frolicking and merrymaking (I've really just wanted to use those two in one sentence for the longest time) after school lets out. On the 22nd we depart for Rome and Capri, Naples and Assisi, and a whole bunch of other lovely warm things in the South where I will hopefully be able to bust out the sundresses, skirts, and shorts that I brought with me. Either way, I have begun to feel the slow crushing grip of time, it feels like only yesterday that we got here. I know that these next few weeks will fly by, and I'm really going to genuinely miss it. Granted, I miss you all at home, but when will I ever have this opportunity to live like this again? I'm quite cozy in my little spot here, and I'm pretty attached to the country and the location (although my dream is to live in Venice. Oh, Venice!!) I have to come back out here, I hope I can work something out soon, very soon, borderline immediately.

On to the visitations. Two weekends ago I went to Rome to meet up with the one and only Brooke. I skipped my later class, and thankfully the professor didn't have any problem with me not being there. Either way, I was on a bus at 2 heading out to Rome. 3 1/2 hours later, I was in Rome, standing quite confused and lost-looking outside the train station (of which there are two). Now, I knew that my hostel was a straight shot out from the Termini Train Station, but I was fairly certain that that was not where I was. And I was doubly certain that I did not want to walk from Train Station 1 to Train Station 2 with no idea where I was going. So I purchased a map, like the logical little thing I am. Now, realizing exactly where I was, I was even more determined to not walk, the roads on the map are littered with hotel names and arrows and who knows what else, pretty much rendering the map useless. A good €5 waste. I thought to myself, "Well self, you can take the subway, but really you have no idea where you are going, or where you should get off, and perhaps it would be nicer to take a taxi." Oh, brilliance!! I walked, equally confused, equally lost, up to the taxi line. I have perfected at this point the "Oh dear, I am so very lost and innocent, won't someone please take care of me?" look in Italy. Normally this works fairly well, because honestly, I just don't want to deal with taxi drivers.

Anywho, I got into the cab, told the man where I would like to go, and off we went. Little did I know, that I had chosen the most confused taxi driver in all of Italy. He got lost. He had a GPS, and he got lost. Not just "I want your money, so I'll 'get lost'" lost, I mean, "got out of the car and asked for directions" lost. I was astounded. About €10 later, which is 10 times more than what I would have paid for a 75 minute subway ticket, I was outside the hostel, completely flustered. Up the stairs I went, into the main room, and saw that I was alone. I asked the man behind the desk if my friend had checked in yet, which she hadn't. So I checked in, paid my half of the bill, got the key, and unloaded my stuff. I ate a ham sandwhich, which my host mother had packed me. I looked out the window, which was chained shut. I chatted with an Australian in the room who was applying fake tanner. And then I headed back outside when I heard a very familiar wonderfully American tinged with Brit voice. Brooke had arrived!! We signed up for free pasta that evening, finished half settling in, chatted a little bit more with said Australian, and went to the kitchen when the large Italian woman bellowed "Pasta!" It was ok pasta, as far as pasta goes, not the best I've ever had, but I've been spoiled. After, we went for a walk to get some gelato, and to just see what was around our neck of the woods. At about 10ish we headed back to the hostel, and pretty much just passed out.

The next day we woke up early, took showers, ate a quick bowl of Cocoa Crispies, and then headed out on our super tourist day. We saw: The Colloseum, the Roman Forum, the 5th Avenue of Rome, Augustus' house, ate authentic pizza and ice cream, visited the Spanish Steps, where we met up with Mike, and the Trevi Fountain. After all that, we even went to a rugby game, which, unfortunately, I still don't understand. After, we were going to dye bits of my hair blue, but no where in italy sells blue hair dye. The buggers. We ate in a lovely little Chinese restaurant, which was really quite fantastically good. After that, we crashed at home and were out cold by about 10.

The next day we only had a bit of time to wander. We checked out and dropped off our bags at the train station. We walked around a bit, and ended up getting a smidgeon lost. But in our lostitude, we saw the Pantheon, as well as the giant Piazza Veneziano (or something along those lines). We got back in time for Brooke to catch a train to the Rome Fiumincino Airport, and for me to catch the subway to the bus station. I ran into Mike and family while on my way to the station, and we all went together to wait. We then hopped back on the bus, another 3 1/2 hours later we were back in Siena. Thus ended the magnificent weekend in Rome.

Join us next time for: Venice, my favorite place on earth.

A presto, tutti.

Irrational Fears

Irrational fears. They're a beautiful thing, because really and truly, no one can telly you it's stupid to have that fear, because it's in the title. An irrational fear is something that people look at you strangely for, or that you can't justify, it just scares the pants off of you. Like being afraid of peaches.

Anywho, I thought I would take this moment to recount a few of my irrational fears, mainly because during this weekend in Venice (of which there will be a post, and gosh darn it there'll be one on Rome, too) I got the pleasure of reliving one of my irrational fears.

This weekend, in Venice, we decided to visit the church of Saint Rocco, no, not the wallaby, the Saint of Plague Victims (crummy job, if you ask me. I'd rather be the Saint of Delicious Cakes or Saint of Really Shiny Objects). Anyway, so we went into this church, and there's a bunch of altars and such and Richard gives his spiel and we go on our merry way looking at what we want to and splitting up. So we wander around, I've done my lap, seen what I want to see, so I camp out in the main area to wait around for the others. I see Mike, and I had seen Jane a little before, but I haven't seen Richard or Viv. Then I realize I haven't seen Jane in a while, but wait, there's Mike over there, looking at a book. Then there's no Mike anymore. I'm on my own. I look around frantically in the nave, there's no one there. I head over towards the pews. No one. To the side altars. Nothing. I come back to the main room, I still see no one, and I'm having a complete internal meltdown. They've left without me, how could they leave without me, there's only 4 of us, they couldn't have just left, they would know that I'm gone, how could they leave without me?? I tried to calm myself down. Okay, go check outside, if they're not out there, then you've definitely been left. So I wander outside the front doors, trying to hold in my hysteria. And there, right outside the door, smiling and laughing in a little circle, is the group. Waiting. Now, here is the series of emotions that ran through my head "THANKGODTHEY"REHERE, they intentionally left me in there and knew I would freak out, ANGERANGER, but they didn't know I would freak out, OVERLOADOFEMOTIONS one step short of tears." So I went back to the hotel. Collapsed on my bed. Attempted to write a little bit, was too upset, and decided to walk around and shop. Hint: Shopping can in fact calm someone down, because it is so mundane and so normal, that it's impossible to be overly terrified of anything.

Anyway, irrational fear 2. The dark, specifically being alone in it. I attribute this mostly to the fact that I have an overactive imagination. I'm afraid of large dark rooms where I can't see anything, and I like having a little bit of the blinds cracked so there's some outside light coming in. I woke up in the middle of the night in my single room in the hotel in a panic not knowing where I was or what was around me. It was a freaky moment.

Well, we're up to 2 irrational fears, and honestly I've lost a little steam in this discussion. Maybe we'll explore later. But, on next week's show, expect some Venice and Rome.

Rock steady. A presto.

Little Balls of Anger

... That's what's in my calves right now. This past weekend we went to the Cinque Terre, a strip of five tiny coastal towns built into the valleys of mountains. Needless to say, it was gorgeous, since everything in Italy has been thus far.

One of the major things to do in the Cinque Terre, besides lie on the beach (it was too cold anyway), is to hike from one town to the next, something that can be accomplished easily in one day. Being the active young students that we are, of course we decided to do it. Why bother going all the way out there and not at least attempt? Around 11am we headed out from the first town, Riomaggiore, which was where our seaside apartment was (also amazing, you could hear the ocean throughout the entire building and see the marina from our front window. Also, our house is on most of the postcards that you can find of Riomaggiore. Sweeeeet!!!). The first part is called Via Dell'Amore, Lover's Lane. In all honesty, this part of the trip was a joke. Practically perfectly flat, no issues whatsoever. What we did not know is that you have to pay to walk from one town to the next, a 5 euro cost that was completely pointless. These people must be making a fortune off of all the people who want to walk here. It's insane. Via Dell'Amore was literally jampacked with tourists, they had to have made millions just in that day. Anyway, enough with the rant. We got to the next town shortly thereafter, since the hike was both short and easy. However, the normaly trail from Manarola (town 2) to Corniglia (town 3) was closed for repair. There were two options, either take the free shuttle from M to C, or hike up a mountain and down again to get there. Guess which one we chose? You guessed it, the mountain.

I have never seen so many stairs in my life. We must have walked up hundreds upon hundreds of stairs. The sun was shining, the wind was blowing gently, and there was a neverending line of stairs leading into forever. Turn the corner, more stairs. Turn another, more stairs. Turn again, no stairs but an upward ramp. My legs hated me. Either way, we got up to the town whose name at the moment I can't recall, but starts with something like a V and probably means "holy crap you climbed a lot of stairs to get here." We sat for a few minutes, gulping down water and sweating up a storm, then decided to head on to Corniglia. The scenery was beautiful, I haven't seen anything like it. There are these sheer drops that go down in giant steps to the ocean (this country has an obsession with steps) covered in grapevines. It was gorgeous. Once at Corniglia we took a quick lunch break, then forged on our way.

Unfortunately, somewhere in the wilderness and stairs I lost my ticket, or Jane's ticket, we're not really sure who lost what. They also check the tickets at every town to make sure you aren't gipping them out of the money they stole from you. Jane thankfully talked us through that point, and the one following. The walk between Corniglia and Vernazza was less strenuous, just exceedingly long. I don't remember much of Vernazza, all I know is I got some delicious gelato there.

The last stretch, now pushing well into hour 4 of just hiking, was ridiculous. Again with the stairs, first going up, then going down, the sun was starting to go behind the clouds so it became chilly, the ground was wet and slick from the rain the night before, and the trail was so narrow at some points that you had enough room for one person to shuffle past. One step to the left and you were off the mountain. It was fantastic.

By the time we were done, we had been gone for about 6 hours, and had hiked for a good 5. We were tired, sweaty, and probably smelled horrid, but it felt like such an accomplishment to actually make it all the way across, something that most people just don't do. We caught a train back to the first town, a ride that lasted all of 20 minutes. I think I ordered the biggest dinner of my life, and we all pretty much just collapsed at the end of the day.

A presto.

In which I am Extremely Spontaneous

Soooo in the past... 56 hours, I have probably been the most spontaneous that I ever have been in my entire life.

To begin with, on Thursday, I wandered into the first hair cuttery I found and decided to chop my hair short (see Facebook picture, I was excited) by an Italian woman who spoke no English (I was so thrilled that I could actually express myself in Italian well enough to get the cut I liked, even if I did pretty much point at a picture). The same day the four of us pretty much decided that we wanted to go to Elba for the weekend, and had sort of figured out how to get out there, but were running into issues about when to head out.

Friday, during our coffee break, Richard, the teacher of the second class, calls and cancels class so we can get out to Elba earlier. Viv, Jane, and their friend David had already made reservations at a hotel in Florence and were just going to head out there earlier, meanwhile I was dying to get out to Elba early and actually have a full day there. Mike was less than keen on the idea, and said that he couldn't make the 130 train, which was pretty disappointing, but I figured it was alright. I was kind of pissed off because I've done the go out for a day and wish you had more time there kind of thing. I headed over to use the internet, and Mike caught up with me and told me he changed his mind. So we headed home, threw some stuff into bags, and booked it to the train station. We got tehre with plenty of time to catch the train, and ended up in Elba by 730. We had made no reservations at all, so we literally walked into the first place that we found in Portoferraio and got a room for the night. We walked around the marina and ended up stumbling upon a really cute little place where we were literally the only people in the restaurant. It was soooo gooooood. I ate octopus and crab and it was delicious. I ordered things without knowing what they are, and it was exciting and different and just awesome.

The next morning we woke up super early, grabbed a quick breakfast and hopped an early bus to Marina del Campo, and found another hotel/camper thing and spent the entire day on the beach. I got sunburnt but it was fantastic. Jane, Viv and David decided to stay in Portoferraio, which was a little disappointing, but that was ok, we ended up meeting up with them the next day. We spent most of Sunday trying to figure out how to get home, and ended up in Siena just in time for dinner.

Over all, this past weekend was simply fantastic. As for me, it is now time for me to go and buy some jeans. Wheeeee!

A presto!

HOLY MACAROON

I JUST SAW FREAKING DANIEL CRAIG ON TOP OF A BUS OUTSIDE MY SCHOOL.

MY LIFE IS NOW COMPLETE

Jolly Old London Town and Christmas Gypsies

Gooooood Morning, London!

Alright, that's a lie, it is neither morning, nor am I physically in the city of London, but whatever, it's all good. I at least was there.

This past weekend I had the extreme pleasure of heading out to see Brooke, one of my best friends from back home (I was in dire need of a sister, and thank goodness there was one out here! The past week or so had been really rough, I needed someone who really got me to talk to, and Brooke was a life-saver). Plus, it was my first time to London ever! So really, I was just about jumping out of my skin I was so excited.

I cut class on Friday afternoon to take oodles of trains out to the Pisa Airport. Now, normally, at home one arrives at the air port with a good 2 + hours to spare, so, naturally, that is what I did. Planes don't wait, after all. So I arrived at 230, with my flight taking off at 5, and the flight hadn't even been assigned a check-in point yet. It was so strange. An hour later, the show the place I'm supposed to put my bags and get my ticket. Even stranger was I had to pay to check my bag, and the seating was just "random." Easyjet, you crazy, crazy people. Anyway, I went to go and find my gate, but the door that lead to it was closed and no one could get in. So I waited another half hour, scarfed down some pizza, which I was severely overcharged for but the man serving it was very nice, and finally went to go double check on the gate. The doors had magically opened on their own, so I headed upstairs where they barely looked at my passport, stamped it, and shuffled me through to a room full of Italians and Brits. I settled myself in on a bench and anxiously awaited for boarding. A line had started forming, and I felt compelled to go stand in it (a little bit of sheep syndrome, I know). About 5 minutes before we were supposed to take off, they started boarding, and it was a mad dash to who could get where fastest. I ended up with a window seat, which was lovely becuase I love looking out. Otherwise I get really bored extremely fast. We touched down in London around 6 pm, which wasn't too bad at all. I hopped on the Gatwick Express into Victoria Station and had a really cool conversation with a Dane about all kinds of things. I finally found Brooke after searching desperately for about 4 minutes on the phone. We hopped on a subway and dropped my things off at my hostel (I was sharing a room with 2 Japanese girls, 2 Brazilians, and a German. It was crazy). We then went to this cute little place and ate chicken pitas, crashed at the hostel for a bit then went to bed.

The next morning we headed out to do the touristy bit, and I actually had sunshine!! It was glorious! We first headed to Westminster Abbey and saw the outside of Parliament and Big Ben, and we also walked by the London Eye (Eye of London, I don't actually know what it is called, it's the big Ferris-wheely bit in the middle of town) and ate Vanilla Flakes (vanilla soft-serve with a "flake" of Cadbury chocolate). I also got to eat a pasty, aka a meat pie, which was tasty but gross looking and a little disturbing because I had seen Sweeney Todd. Mmm... lawyer. We also went to Kennsington Gardens, and finally found the statue of Peter Pan. I'm obsessed, she's obsessed, and I have no problem saying that I am, in fact, 7 years old at heart. Deal. Anywho, we popped on the internet for a little bit and made some plans to head off to Rome in a few weeks, and by the time we headed out to go get tea (yaaaay tea time) it was pouring. So I got to experience true London weather, too! We went first to the Museum of Natural History, which, in my opinion, even as an art con major, are significantly more interesting than regular art museums, where they had the most disturbing display about how we recycle energy. It started with a bunny, and the voice, in a cute little British accent, popped up saying "Allo, rabbit! Lookit you eatin' your grass!" then it progressed to the next one, where it said "Ewwww whatzit doin'?" where the bunny (taxadermy at it's best) was pooing. And then it went to "Awww, rabbit's dyyyying." To "I can't look I can't look!" where the bunny was decomposing. To "Where's rabbit?" the bunny had completely gone away into the soil. And at the end of it, they said "OOOOOH, Let's recycle another rabbit." DISTURBING. SO DISTURBING.

After that we went to tea, and then to see a movie. We signed up for Lars and the Real Girl, but ended up seeing Love in the Time of Cholera, which, while good, was not what we bought. Ohhhh well. After, we went and got some Indian food for dinner, which was delicious.

The next morning I woke up at the crack of dawn (6 am, which was really 5 am because they did daylight savings that weekend. Bastards), checked out, and proceeded to wait for my cab at 615. 615 came and went, as did 620, and 625. I was a little nervous at this point. I went up to the desk and asked if they could call and make sure everything is alright. They said they had no reservation for me (although I had made it the night before). They finally sent one over, and I arrived at 645 to catch the Gatwick Express back to the airport. Unfortunately, the trains run every half hour in the wee hours of the morning, not every 10 minutes like they do during peak hours. So if my cab had been there, I could have caught the 630 GE, gotten to the airport at 7 and had enough time to get to my gate. Unfortunately for me, I got there at 730, and the people told me "sorry, tough cookies." Now that I knew my flight was doomed, I asked if I could get on the next one coming out. Easyjet, being so kind and helpful, said, "There are no other flights out of Gatwick to Pisa today. That was the only one." Slackjawed and amazed, I thanked them and wandered away. I asked another desk, "Do you have any flights to Pisa today?" and it turns out that the only people who fly there are Easyjet, in all their glory, and British Airways. Swallowing my pride (fully knowing that the next question was going to have a very painful response) I went up to the desk and asked for a ticket on the next flight to Pisa. "Surely, for 150 GBP." I smiled, fished out my credit card, and paid the pleasant man. At the very least, I would be home that day. I ended up waiting around for another 2 hours at the airport before the flight started boarding. By noon, I was off, sitting in a window seat next to two less than friendly Brits, I think they just had no desire to talk to me. Oh well. But how can you be mad when you land in Pisa to 78 degrees and sunny?

A few trains later, I was home. It was 7 pm, the sun was still out, it was still wonderfully warm, and I was in a fantastic mood. My host mom was cooking dinner, and the world was a fantabulous place. And thus ended my weekend holiday.

As for the Christmas Gypsy bit, if any of you either read the title or remember it by now, while walking toward the Campo after class one day, Mike and I saw a gypsy dressed in lime green and fire-engine red. She was, in fact, a Christmas Gypsy.

A presto, tutti!

Eine Kleine Kruisfhart

OK, Ok, so that may not in fact be how you spell "cruise" in german, but honest to goodness, the german language rose about 25 points in my book when I heard that.

Now, why exactly would that be in my vocabulary? Excellent question! Let us explore.

For my spring break (which has been for the past 10 days, classes have just restarted this morning) I met up with my parents and brother and went on a 7 day cruise around the Western Mediterranean (another word I swear I will never learn to properly spell). To begin with, it was wonderful to see my family, I'm pretty bummed that my sister couldn't come out and join us, but what the hey, it was still a good time.

The cruise itself left from Savona, Italy, a small town near Genoa in the northern part of the country. There is one train station, two or three small hotels, the dock, and one Mr. Kabob, where one can purchase the glorious food known as Doner kabobs. It's a glorious revolution that needs to come to the states. Now. However, when dealing with our fantastic contact at the travel agency, hereon referred to as Suzy Sunshine, she was convinced that the cruise left from Genoa, so that is where we booked our hotel, our trains, our flights, and all other important bits and pieces to travel once we returned. The day before, we discover that the boat does not, in fact, leave from Genoa, but from Savona, a 40 minute cab ride away. It was definitely not one of the more pleasant moments in our lives. We had a lovely dinner in Genoa, wandered around for a little bit and saw a few sights, then packed our bags and went to bed so we could be up and out by noon the next day with no problems. This we did, and one 120 euro cab ride later we were at the correct port. The boat itself was gigantic, the Costa Magica, an italian cruise line that is most likely one of 2 boats to run trips this early in Europe. I was just about jumping out of my skin with excitement, I've never had the pleasure of taking a cruise before, and I was pretty psyched to see what they were all about.

Once on board, we checked out our rooms. Geoff's and mine was on the inside, so sadly no window or deck for us. This proved to be a bit of a problem later on, we would sleep like rocks and probably could have passed out for a good 15 hours if given the opportunity. My parents had a cabin down the hall from us with a balcony. It was fairly nice, I have nothing to compare it to, but every room had a tv with one english speaking channel, the British News Skynews, which repeated itself every 15 minutes. Goody.

There were several pools on board, as well as several hot tubs, bars, a casino (which I got to use but lost a good 15 euro on), and a waterslide. Unfortunately it was too cold to really enjoy any of the outdoor water features or the deck, but the inside was quite lovely as well.

Once we left Savona we headed for Naples and Pompeii, along with a quick detour to Sorrento. Unfortunately, there were so few English speaking guests onboard that they had cancelled the English guide for the Pompeii tour, so the four of us were slid in with a German, Spanish, and French tour. Needless to say, we spent most of the time wandering around on our own, with me explaining the bits and pieces that I remembered from 3 years ago. Thank you random fact memory. After Pompeii we had about 45 minutes to walk around Sorrento, which was a shame because it was beautiful and had a lot of shops that we would have loved to wander around in (specifically my mother). Afterwards, we hopped back on the train to head back to the boat. There was a Ventriliquist that night, which was actually pretty funny for the first puppet, but since he had to repeat every joke in 5 languages, it became old really quickly and we decideed to call it quits for the night. We ended up in one of the bars listening to someone try and sing "Hit the Road, Jack", but instead of saying "And don't you come back no more no more" they were singing "And WON'T you come back no more", which, effectively, defeats the entire purpose of the song. Also they sang "Lovely day" as "lonely day". It was an experience.

The second day was spent in Palermo, I wasn't feeling particularly well, for some reason I had had chills the night before and while we were walking around during the day I could have sworn the entire world was rocking from side to side. Later that evening I went down to the doctor on the ship to ask him what I should do, he took one look at my throat and slammed me on antibiotics. Apparantly I had something very similar to strep throat, which was really just a blast.

After Palermo we stopped in Tunis, Tunisia in Africa. I missed this day because I was really sick and slept for most of the day. I went up on deck once and took some pictures of camels. That was all I experienced.

We then headed to Palma De Mallorca, which was absolutely beautiful, although it was a bit chilly. I would definitely go back again when it is warmer, there are lots of beaches and the part of town closest to the water is absolutely picturesque. We also went to a Vegas style show later that night, which was a lot of fun. The only problem was that we were sitting at a table with a family from Denmark and a couple from France, so there was no real way to communicate verbally. There was a lot of gesticulation. Also, during the preformance there were several acts of Flamenco dancing, and I'm pretty sure I want to pick it up or at least learn some type of dance. It just looks like a lot of fun, and I love the hispanic/spanish dancing traditions.

Barcelona was the next stop, and I actually really liked it a lot despite the fact that it's a big city. This was the day that Geoff didn't feel too well, and took the taxi ride from hell back to the boat. We went and saw the Casa della Segrada familia, which is a really funky looking church that I have yet to make up my mind if I like it or not. There is one part of the façade that I really like a lot, it has these really modern cubic scupltures of scenes from Jesus' life. The main entrance, on the other hand, I was less than thrilled with. Ever spire looks like it's wearing the chiquita banana lady's hat. Also, the metro system in Barcelona is simply fantastic, and I would love to go back and get a better idea of what it actually is like to be there.

Lastly, we stopped in Marseilles. It was freezing, but beautiful. There was a very pretty church at the top of one of the hills that I simply adored, and it had a fantastic view of the city and harbor below. Sadly, I did not get a crepe, which is what I wanted more than anything else.

Once we returned to Savona, my parents and I returned to Siena. I showed them around the city for a day, and they got to meet the director of the program over here and my host family. Playing the interpretor was difficult, but on the whole I think I did an ok job of it. I was pretty sad to see them go, I went through a pretty big swing of homesickness yesterday, but I got to talk to all the people that I miss the most, which was wonderful.

I can't wait to finally be home again with you all!! It's not that I'm not having a good time here, I am, but there are little comforts that I miss on a daily basis, and I can't wait to have them back. Just two more months, althought they will certainly fly. This weekend I'm heading out to see the one and only Fabulous Brooke in London, then we head to a vineyard, Venice for 5 days, Florence for a weekend, Rome, Assissi, Arrezzo, Padua, Capri, Pompeii, Naples, and Mike and I are heading to the Cinque Terre for a weekend. All in all, I'm psyched about everything that's going on, and I can't wait to show everyone all of the pictures (which, hopefully, will be on facebook sooner rather than later. I think I have about... 400 to put up. I wish that was an exaggeration...)

Miss you all, a presto, tutti!

Umbrellas: The New Pickup Line

As mentioned in my earlier post, I firmly believe that all Italian men are, in fact, insane. This point was proven to me, yet again, yesterday afternoon as I headed into town to meet up with a friend for lunch.

It was raining, quite heavily, probably the second day of actual rain that we've had since arriving in Siena. It was chilly, I'd been shivering all day, and had donned a tank, two sweaters, and my heavy jacket to head out. While walking toward Il Campo, I had seen several people who were soaking wet because the had been lulled into a false sense of security by the beautiful and sunny morning and had left their umbrellas at home. My host mother, luckily, reminded me to bring mine, otherwise I would have been in the same boat.

Now, granted, I stick out. I have a dark red peacoat and a bright polka dot umbrella. I'm sure people see me on the street. Black is a popular color here, and I think that I stick out like a sore thumb. On this particular day, decked out in my red and polkadots, an Italian man (I say man because he was easily 35) asked me if he could share my umbrella for a bit. I said yes, he was soaking wet and I didn't want to be rude. I'd do it for just about anyone. I figured he was just going to hunch under it, but no, he looped his arm through mine and quite casually started asking me what I was doing there and if I was Italian (surprisingly enough, I get Italian first, apparantly my coloring fits right in). I told him I was studying Italian for the semester and that I was on my way to meet a friend of mine for lunch. He then quite casually asked me if this young man I was meeting was my boyfriend, and I became very suspicious of his questioning. He asked me if I wanted to get a coffee or something to drink sometime, quickly tossed his number into my phone, gave me his name, and headed off. I was dumbfounded. Since when has the umbrella become a new way to try to pick up girls? This is an interesting developement in the courtship of the opposite sex.

On a side note, I have had no less than 4 different italians give me their phone numbers and try to pick me up. In America, this never happens. Ever. I am rarely approached by American guys, which I suppose is a good thing. I have yet to figure out if I have a giant "Get away from me" sign on my forehead or not, but if I do, clearly the Italian male population cannot read it or blatantly ignores it.

So, in conclusion, my dear gentlemen friends, if all else fails, try asking a girl to share her umbrella. I guaruntee she won't say no.

Observations

Dear Dedicated and Inspired Readers,

I have no idea why I wanted to start this post that way, but I believe that I enjoy it, and I'm in a strange mood at the moment where I pretty much go with every whim that hits me. That may involve climbing to the top of the tower in the main square of town, especially because I haven't done that yet. It's a beautiful day here, I'm quite content with it, the air is slightly colder than yesterday, but if you lie in the sun or are moving about it's pleasantly warm and definitively spring-like.

However, carissimi, these are not my observations. The following are.

1. Italians live to eat. I love these people, like no other. They told us originally that they had fairly light dinners and that lunch is the main meal, breakfast 9 times out of 10 consisting of no more than a cup of coffee and a piece of bread. Let's just recount my normal daily food consumption:

Brekkers (don't ask, I just really liked that word. I'll probably feel idiotic about typing it in about... oh let's say 10 minutes. Also note that though I say that I will feel idiotic, I will do nothing to change what I have written.): One cappuccino, freshly made in a fancy shmancy machine, which I am convinced every Italian household owns. The cappuccino is the size of a small cereal bowl, the amount of caffeine in it is the only reason I get through the 730 am mornings. One container of yogurt, normally pineapple, which is delicious. This morning it was strawberry, which was less good. One or two slices of bread, smothered with either Nutella, which I swear is a gift from God, or apricot marmalade. If I'm still hungry, or if I want, I can grab an orange for the road.

Breaktime: We have a little break during class, where you can get a coffee. Another cappuccino is consumed here, sometimes with fruit, sometimes with cookies. There's a bakery right across the street from the university, this is a bad idea because it smells like heaven all the time. Want.

Lunch: A panino, normally on foccaccia with proscuitto, roasted red peppers and mozzarella, toasted in the oven. If not, then I get a slice of pizza, which is also delicious. Lunch is normally consumed in La Piazza Dal Campo, because it's beautiful and warm and sunshiny, and that's where people go. Other observation about this location to follow.

Dinner: This is the kicker, I was expecting only pasta. They are liars, light dinner, psh. They start you with a gigantic bowl of pasta, something that would normally pass as a full on meal in itself at Olive Garden, followed by a piece of meat, normally about the size of a fist. This is accompanied by veggies of various types or a salad, depending on Luanna's mood. On top of this they have an antipasto which are little toasted pieces of bread with different spreads on them, Luanna made one that is like a pesto which is fresh and light and delicious, and another that is meaty and delicious and amazing and I could literally eat the entire jar and not think twice about it. Along with the meal there is loads and loads of bread, which has been warmed and lightly toasted in the oven, which you can drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with salt, and rub with garlic. I love me some garlic. Seriously, I eat probably about 5 slices of this bruschetta. After that, there is more fruit, normally an orange or an apple, depending on what's around. The past few nights there have been sweets on top of that, like a baked apple tort or these little fried rice balls that have a slight orange taste and are sprinkled with sugar called Fritellini. I think that's what they're called anyway. They're amazing. But yes, dinner is huge here, I have no idea how I'm not 400 lbs already.

2. People here make out everywhere. Not even kidding. I was sitting in Piazza Dal Campo and there was a couple literally lying on top of each other going at it. And there was another set on the other side. And when I was lost in Florence trying to find my hotel? Sets of them everywhere. It's crazy, you can't lie down on the Campo, but you can make out furiously with your boyfriend. It's a funny world.

3. Italian men are insane. The older they get, the stranger they are. Younger Italian men will plug their cell phone numbers into your phone, and continually call you and drive insane distances to come and see you (Jane had a friend from Genoa drive 2 hours to come hang out with us for a night. Italians are insane). Then they also find it acceptable to give you their phone numbers even if they have girlfriends/fiances. And then, when they get older, they walk down the middle of the street, defying all cars to run them over. Italians, they're a special breed of something.

4. I wish I could remember what I was going to write here, I had a whole bunch of different things I wanted to write. I find that my English isn't as great as it could be, it's definitely not as descriptive. I wrote a poem yesterday in Italian that sounded beautiful, but when I translated it into English, it sounded very trivial and lame. This saddened me, and has somehow split my love for the two languages. I love that there are so many descriptors in English, mostly because I actually know them and can use them whenever I want, but I also love the flow and sound of the collective words in Italian. It's just so pretty to hear when it's read and spoken, and I love making the different sounds. English isn't as... flowy. Or at least I don't have enough of a mastery of the language to make it that way.

Anyway, this post is sufficiently long enough. I hope all is well back in the States!!!

A presto!

Quantum of Solace

Alright, all you James Bond Fans, and even if you aren't a fan, you need to be hard core jealous of me right this instant. You will never guess what is being filmed ON THE STREET OUTSIDE MY CLASSROOM. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, the next James Bond flick. Can you say excited? Can you say 'geeking out'? Fantastic, because that is exactly what I am doing right now. We spent a good hour after class today hanging around outside where they are testing the film shot, then another good 20 minutes hanging around outside the actual film set in hopes of seeing someone famous. I was looking into every car that drove past hoping to get a glimpse of Daniel Craig (Jane, by the way, has never seen a JB movie and I was shocked and amazed. Also, the theme song from the Golden Eye video game for N64 has been running through my head non-stop. Dun nun dah dah duh duh daaaaah dun dadadaaaa duh da dow).

So there you have it, people. The second of my must see films (the first being the new Batman because 1) it looks genuinely quite good, and 2) because I have a secret love for Heath Ledger and want to see the last movie he ever made). Quantam of Solace. Lame title, one overly excited 20-year-old.

A Presto, tutti!

Felice di stare lassù

So there's a really cute little italian song that I am in fact in love with. Volare, by some person whose name I can't quite remember, and I had the extreme pleasure of hearing it sung live on the telly last night. Since then, it has been most pleasantly running through my head, and I have found myself humming little phrases here and there of different stanzas and choruses. It makes me quite happy.

Siena is still lovely, it looks like rain today, and it's actually one of those awkwardly hot/cold days where the air is cool but when you walk around (especially up and down hills) you're dripping sweat. It's a peculiar situation, but I enjoy it none the less. How many people in the States can say that they're running around in a teeshirt in February?

Let's hope it lasts.

Ciao.

Good Morning, Sunshine.

Oh I miss home. I know, it's been a week, and I'm a wimp and lame for missing home. But I do and there's nothing you can do about it.

Since getting the internet up and running, I've had more contact with people. This is due to the fact that I can now be on AIM at a normal hour for you people. Silly things, being six hours behind... But anyway, I've been in contact with more people and I realize I have less and less to say over the span of time. I do pretty much the same thing every day here, so when asked "How's Italy???" I basically have nothing to say:

"Well, it was sunny today, and there's some good weather coming in... and... um... we learned about pronoun dependent verbs... and... uh... I saw a pigeon."

Yes, it is lovely here. Yes, I do enjoy it. No, we do not in fact go out every night because Yes, I am, in fact, 85 at heart and enjoy going to bed at 10 pm. I'm a lady who enjoys her sleep. Also, we've been everywhere there is to go practically in this town, I think there are only a couple of pubs that we haven't invaded with our American Presence.

And the American Presidential election is all over the news here. (Thought process: presence sounds like present sounds like president PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION). Franco asked me about the presidential election and who I wanted to win and how it worked and everything the other day and I stumbled through it as best as I could. Honestly, I don't start doing my research until August, tops, and I probably couldn't hold an intelligent conversation in English much less Italian. As I was tripping over words he was looking at me strangely, and when I finished with an exasperated sigh he asked me, "Quando stai fuori della classe, che lingua parli?" (outside of class what do you speak) I didn't understand the point of the question, I was still furiously embarassed about the debacle of a conversation we'd just had. "Che?" I said. He repeated it again, slower. I still didn't understand why he wanted to know. "Parlo itliano alla scuola, ma quando sono con gli altri studenti parlo inglese." (I speak Italian in class, but when with the other students I speak English) He gave me a knowing look and nodded his head, "Si, pensavo che si perche tu non parli l'italiano bene." (I thought so because you don't speak Italian well). I was mortified, it was like a slap in the face. First you ask me about a subject I don't know anything about, and then criticize me when I don't know the words in a foreign language? What kind of crap is that? It's not like when we sit in Italian class they say "Oh, here's all the words for everything you may ever need to talk about in Italy, including the specific terms for the presidential election, the candidates' occupations, how to state their opinions and if you agree with them, and here is how to explain the electoral college." These are things I never thought I would encounter.

Oh well, we're off to Florence for the afternoon, I'll post a less whiny entry at a later date.

Ciao, a presto.

OH SWEET SWEET INTERNET

I LIVE! Seriously.

I thought I was going to die there for a minute, the internet access in Italy is, let's just say, less than stellar. What wireless there is flits in and out, and the landlines? 2 euro an hour? That's a student discount, ladies and gentlemen. Hells no.

Anyway, enough with the ranting. More with the recounting of the past week (since I know all one of you who actually read this trash cares or at the very least pretends to).

Flew out of Philly, no problems. The flight was long, the chairs were cramped, but the company was good. We spent most of the time at the airport munching on McDonald's and calling people. Viv and Jane are both nice, and have a fantastic chemistry not unlike two sisters who basically pick on each other all the time. It's pretty hysterical. Got to London at the early early early crack of dawn, after which we spent the 2 and a half hours staring at people in the London airport. And the fog. A portion of that time was dedicated to hopelessly watching our flight information crawl up the electronic board. At the time the gate should have been posted, we received a very polite "Please Wait" sign instead. With 10 minutes to takeoff, they gave us the gate. We sprinted there only to sit for another hour and a half on the plane because the country was too damn foggy. We finally took off at 1210, landing us in Rome at 330 where Richard, our very old (pushing 65) trip director was waiting for us. We then piled into a buslike concoction and headed the 2 hours to Siena to our respective host families. Mine is called Fedolfi, consisting of Luanna and Gianfranco (Franco from here-on-out) and a little weiner dog named Pippo. I was exhausted, inhaled the delicious delicious food that Luanna placed infront of me, unpacked into my tiny little room with a terrace and a view, and passed out.

The next day consisted of walking around Siena. We met up with Richard and Mike, the poor guy is the only male on the trip. I feel a little bad for him, but oh well, he's enthusiastic enough to go out and do exactly as he pleases whether followed by us three or not. The walking tour was nice, Siena is all hills and valleys and stone streets. It's very beautiful, and the weather is warmer than home. It's warm enough to walk around sans hat and gloves, and with jacket open. The food is delicious, although it is very easy to slip into what we have deemed the "Euro State of Mind" in which you see something and think, "Oh! It's only a euro-fifty! That's nothing! And look! A panino for 3 euro? Fantastic!" meanwhile in dollars it is slowly racking up. I don't even want to think about how much I've gone through already. But yes, the city is lovely the people are lovely and everything is fabulous. We walked through some museums and some buildings and it's all just old and gorgeous like time just stopped here (which it did, basically. The Black Death wiped out 80% of Siena's population).

We've travelled to San Gusme' which was lovely as well, very cute and similar to Siena, got a fabulous lunch, went to a hot spring spa to soak, which was wonderful besides the fact that it smelled like rotten eggs, and basically have travelled and know the city fairly well. At least well enough to know that if you take the wrong street where it will somewhat end up in a few minutes.

As for classes, it's a piece of cake. Very laid back for 2 and a half hours each day from 9 to 1130 M-F. There's rarely any homework, our homework last night was to translate an American joke into english. Seriously. There are no papers, we have a few minor presentations that are mostly just to get us speaking better, and a final at the end which I can't imagine will be very difficult. After 1130 we normally wander around and shop, get lunch at some small paninoteca or pizzeria, head over to the student center to use the crappy internet, then hang out in La Piazza del Campo, which is where everyone goes because it's basically the only thing here. People lay out on the bricks in the sun and the Piazza empties slowly as the sun sets and the shadows creep over the center. In all it's simply gorgeous.

Well, I believe that is it for now, I may post again soon! Hope the States are treating you with more kindness (at least to your wallets) than Italy. Ciao! A presto!

Today's the Day

That's right, everyone. Today's the day I fly out. Wednesday morning I will be waking up in a strange house, in a strange bed, and probably panicking that I'm not at home. I've been brushing up on my Italian, we'll see how far that gets me, or how long I can actually remember the words I looked up. I'm sure that the host family I'm staying with is nice, and that they won't lock me up in some closet and give me the Cinderella treatment, but it's something I worry about anyway. I also have to look at the itinerary and figure out just when my classes are and all of that, sort of get myself ready for the next 4 months. I feel so very unprepared...

Oh well. The countdown to 655 begins.

Packing, how I laothe you

Packing is something that I have never enjoyed. Packing for 4 months is like a personal hell. It also forces me to realize that I am, in fact, leaving and am going to be missing out on everyone here. It's a little sad.

On the bright side, I get to go shopping, and the parents are picking up the tab. It's glorious. I don't think I've done a binge shop like this... ever. I have more pants than I have ever owned (7. It's ridiculous. I know) as well as a whole bunch of shorts and shirts and shoes! I love shoes.

Speaking of which, it's time to shop for some more of them. Sweet.

Hallo!

So, welcome. This is mostly for my friends and family who want to check up on me while I'm in Italy this semester, I figure it's easier than me sending e-mails to everyone and it'll hopefully keep me somewhat consistent with updates. We'll see how it goes.

Also, I may put bits of it in Italian, possibly not, I haven't figured that bit out.

For those who don't know, or are just passing by, I'm a junior in college and I'm traveling to Siena, Italy for the Spring Semester. I'm freaked out by it, the whole home stay host family thing, the speaking a foreign language, the living in a new city, pretty much all of it. But at the same time I'm so excited to be going that I almost can't wait. It's going to be rough leaving all of my friends and family here, I'm going to miss them all, but I'm sure the 4 months are going to fly by and I won't even know what hit me.

I'll try and post pictures, right now we're looking at 4 days. Well, 4 days once we hit midnight. Ciao!