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!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
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!
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!
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