Home, finally

Yes, that's right. I'm finally home. It's been a long, often lonely, hard semester, and I think I can say with honesty and accuracy that it was both one of the best and worst of my life. Italy was incredible, and studying in Florence was obviously a once in a lifetime chance that I am continually glad I took, despite the craziness and hardships that ensued. But even so, it's relaxing and glorious to be writing this from the comfort of my own couch.

I keep saying I'll try to recount my adventures, but at this point I think it's just a lost cause. That said, I have been keeping up in chronological order in my Flickr photos, with pretty extensive descriptions, so if you haven't checked that out and want to, it's right there waiting.

And with that, I think I'll take my leave of the blog. It's been fun, back in the beginning when I did update, but now it's over, and since this was a study-away blog, it seems silly to continue. So goodbye!

Trying to stop a dam from bursting with one finger, or: Amsterdam and first impressions of Cordoba

Or, in this case, trying to update a blog that has been basically inactive for two months with a slew of posts all at once. I don't know where the time goes -- I guess it just slips my mind. In any case, what I'm going to do is this: write a post for my most recent activities, and then do a series of backwards entries relating the many, many things I've done that did not get recorded. I don't know how long it will take, but I'm set on doing it, and therefore I'll try really, really hard.

To begin: I'm done with school now. Yes, it's been that long. I had finals last weekend up until the middle of last week, and then on the 30th, I left Italy for the last time. It was very strange to just pack up my bags and leave somewhere like that, somewhere I now consider my home, at least a little bit. I was able to fit all my stuff in one suitcase, which was both unexpected and fantastic, even if the suitcase was 6 kilos overweight. I made it to the Pisa airport on time and took off to the first place of my post-school mini-tour: Amsterdam. The plan was to meet Sarah and one of her friend, Abby, who is also from the Oberlin program in Spain.

Arriving was horrendous. I'm not going to lie. The day we chose to arrive is one of two major holidays for the Dutch, Queen's Day, which is the birthday of the Queen Mother, I think. In any case, the best way to describe it is as Dutch St. Patrick's Day. Everyone was milling through the streets, the mass transit was shut down, there were no cabs, and everyone was drunk, yelling, and orange. It was absolutely insane, and after an exhausting flight and heavy baggage, I did not want to deal with it. Unfortunately, when you can't find a cab, you don't really have a choice. I hauled my stuff through the cobbled streets of Amsterdam and finally reached our hostel, where Sarah and Abby where I almost died. But luckily I didn't actually die. It was fairly late so we just went to find some food, and then hit the sack. In the morning, we woke up, and after a hectic period of changing hostels, we went to the Anne Frank house.

The Anne Frank house was an experience in and of itself, obviously. We're all made aware of who Anne Frank is, and why she is important, but when you go there and see the things, it makes it all real and you remember that these things actually happened, and that it was her life, and it was a real little girl who died. It was very strange, and I don't think that it was just me feeling it; despite the mass of people, the museum was very quiet, for the most part. The rooms where she hid with all those people are much larger than I expected, which isn't to say they're large. We followed her story and we saw the diary she wrote in, or at least a replica of it; the real one was in for restoration. I really enjoyed it, even if it did leave us all feeling a little down.

Lunch was pancakes, which certainly helped my mood recover. Apparently the Dutch are pretty famous for pancakes, especially savory ones, so I had one of salami, cheese and peppers and it was absolutely delicious. After lunch, we set off to walk to the Red Light District, which is a pretty crazy place. I'll leave it at that. We went to a sex museum, which was also a pretty crazy place — it's just so startling to see things that we think of as private just put up on a wall, or hanging out on the street! Just so strange. We stayed there for a while and then took off for a canal tour in a big long boat, which was really awesome and relaxing. Then came dinner and our first visit to a coffeeshop. The one we chose was listed in Rick Steves and, additionally, was where parts of Ocean's Twelve were shot, which is pretty cool, if you think about it.

The next morning, we headed off for the museum district, which was pretty far away from our hostel. We went to the Rijksmuseum and stood in line for seriously like a full hour, which wasn't the greatest. However, the Rijksmuseum has a lot of Dutch art so it was worth it in the end, though I have to say, the style is not really my favorite. I prefer huge Impressionistic stuff rather than the perfect little details that the Dutch seem to like. Either way, it was a lot of great art — a lot of Rembrandt in particular, and one Vermeer that I just fell in love with, The Milkmaid. It doesn't look as good in pictures as it does in real life, unfortunately — Vermeer, I have decided, is a complete master at light and reflection. After the Rijksmuseum came lunch at an Irish pub, then an attempt to go to the "Heineken Experience" — Heineken beer was once brewed in Amsterdam. Unfortunately, the Experience is closed until summer. Instead, we went to the House of Bols, which is a small, modern place that teaches you about the special Dutch drink genever, and the genever made by the Bols company, particularly. I don't know if I'd call it a museum, but it was really fun -- very interactive, very shiny, and lots of experiments to see how you smell and taste and stuff. The design apparently won an award in 2007 and it's easy to see why, because the whole place is really cool-looking. At the end, you print out a drink and they make it for you at a special bar, and then we tasted some of the genevers — there are flavors like mint, mango, vanilla, etc. I guess they're kind of like liqueur? I'm not quite sure. But they were delicious nonetheless.

After the House of Bols, we went off to the Van Gogh museum, which was very cool but very crowded. I followed around the Van Gogh exhibitions and learned more about his (tragic) life than I had known before, and it was fantastic to see some of his more famous works up close, like Irises and that one self-portrait. I really liked it, because, as mentioned, I prefer art like Van Gogh to carefully drawn lifelike paintings. After museum, we had dinner and walked back up to the hostel.

In the morning, Sarah and Abby went on a long free walking tour of Amsterdam which they loved, but I knew I'd be complaining about the walking by the end of the first half hour, so I spared them the complaining and had a little free time, which I used to write in my journal, find breakfast, walk around the area where we live and read a little bit while sitting next to a canal. They came back at about three, we had lunch, and then we went and got a paddleboat and paddleboated around on the canals. It was very, very fun, and it was very, very hard to steer. We definitely ended up slowly turning in the middle of the canal more than once. I bet the motor-boatorists hated us, and every other tourist in a paddleboat. But it was still incredibly fun.

On our last full day in Amsterdam, Sunday, we started out by going to the Amsterdam Historical Museum, which was set up in a very interesting fun way; each room you passed through held material from a different time period in Amsterdam's history, so you followed it up from tiny village to Golden Age shipping kings to now, hippie haven. I really liked it and so did Abby and Sarah. After lunch, they headed off to another museum, but I was all museumed out so I did some wandering on my own, which was excellent because sometimes it's just nice to do what you want to do. I wandered down around the neighborhood of our hostel again, and by the Red Light District, and it was all quite enjoyable and it made me very happy.

That night was an early one, because we knew we'd have to get up at four in the morning the next day in order to catch our 7.45 a.m. flight. I was really worried something would go wrong (apparently this is what I do when I travel; I worry that something will go wrong) but nothing did, and we successfully made it to the airport by about five in the morning. Which turned out to be a good thing, because there was a huge, massive crush of people and we ended up standing in line for like an hour and a half, and then again for half an hour or so. It was so very, very fun. Not. But the flight was fine, and then the train to Malaga was fine, and then the train from Malaga to Cordoba was fine and fun because the seats were really nice. The building where Sarah lives has an elevator and all my stuff fits in her apartment, so all is well.

I really enjoy Cordoba so far, even though it is extremely hot, waaaay too hot for my liking. The streets are paved with round stones but everyone has been walking on them so much that they've become flat. I looked it up, and Cordoba has about the same amount of people as Florence, so it's a city that is of a comfortable size. This morning I woke up very late, took a nice cool shower, and organized things while Sarah was at class. She came back and we had lunch, and Sarah was not exaggerating. Spanish food is pretty bad, or at least the little I've had has been strange and specific. Flan, however, is delicious; it's some kind of dessert almost-custard-but-not-really thing that's made with eggs.... so good. I went with Sarah when she went to class at 4.30 and got coffee with her and Abby, and in a little bit I'm meeting Sarah and we're going to go walk around the city and have tea and maybe shop at some little market stalls, I'm not quite sure. But I'm excited!

Anyway, that was my last... six days. I will try to write posts for all the places I went, because I loved them so much. I bet the readership of this blog has dropped to one — my mother — but even so, I'll do it. On Friday, I leave for Paris from Madrid, and then on Sunday morning I fly home. I think it will be very, very strange.

So I haven't written in a long time, or: What I did last weekend.

So I guess when your mother starts begging you to write blog posts, it's just laziness if you don't. And yes, I am lazy, but I also feel guilty for abandoning this for a month, especially when I swore to my parents that no, I would keep them updated! Really! I promise! Clearly, my mind has been elsewhere.

I think I'm going to have to start with my most recent trip and then post a few blogs rehashing the things I've done in the past month. Because ohhh, there were a lot. So! Most recent! That would be Paris.

I went to Paris on an optional trip with my school, which was worth it if only for the fact that I didn't have to take care of any of the logistics of traveling or finding lodgings. However, the journey there and back was probably one of the more hellish experiences of my young life. Overnight train both ways. And although we had sleeper cars, it was still extensively hellish. Six girls packed into one train compartment? Not fun. Not to mention my carmates were all obsessed with things getting stolen. Which, considering what's happened to me, which none of you know about because I haven't blogged about it (hint: I had things stolen), you'd think I'd be more concerned. But let me explain. We locked both locks on our doors and they were worrying that someone would open the door the crack it can open, pop down the top lock, and unscrew and unlock the bottom lock to get at our stuff, and none of us would wake up during any of this or any of the subsequent looting. And I have to say: there is only so much you can do. We locked both locks. They are locks. The car is locked. There is only so much you can do. If you can't tell, I got a little tired of the obsessing.

In any case, we left Florence Thursday night and we had a direct train to Paris, so after a hellish night of train-sleeping, we got to the station in Paris at about nine in the morning. We took a subway en masse (about thirty five people, all told) to our hotel and checked in, at which point I think everyone on the trip took a shower. I was rooming with one of the girls from our sleeper car, Racheal, who was very lovely and a wonderful roommate. After we took our showers, we had some time to kill before the first and only scheduled activity of the weekend: a guided tour of the Louvre. So we walked from our hotel, which was a good amount north of the center of the city, all the way down to the Seine, and then along the river with a brief sojourn to Notre Dame, and then to the Louvre to meet up with our group. This walk took somewhere between three and four hours. But it was a really lovely way to see the city we had just arrived in, and I'm glad we did it. We also stopped along the way at a patisserie and had extremely overpriced, incredibly delicious pastries, which I photographed in the 2.5 seconds before their annihilation.

And then, the Louvre! Our tour only encompassed one wing, the (most) famous one. We saw a lot of paintings whose titles, artists and years of creation I had memorized as part of the art history class that I hate, and I felt a little bit smug. The Louvre is just insane. It's insane how much art there is and how little you can digest it. Yes, we saw the Mona Lisa, from ten feet back, behind a glass window, and no, I do not see what all the fuss is about. But I guess that's kind of the point. I preferred da Vinci's Madonna of the Rocks, which is a painting of Mary with baby Jesus and baby John the Baptist in the woods somewhere, except there's also this weird creepy angel who's looking out at the viewer and pointing to one of the babies, and she has this creepy smile. It was weird. I liked it. Also, the Madonna of the Rocks is the painting on which the Da Vinci Code starts! No, I did not try to lift it off the wall to see if it was a true story.

After our tour ended, we had the rest of the night to ourselves. Racheal and I went down to see the Venus de Milo, which I actually really loved, but by then I was also completely exhausted and miserable and just wanted to go back to the hotel, so we left shortly after and took a really long subway ride home. Unfortunately as soon as we got back to the hotel we had to leave again, to go meet Sarah and her friend at Sacre Coeur. Yes, Sarah (Oberlin roommate) was in Paris at the same time I was, by a complete stroke of luck, and it ended up being quite lovely! Sacre Coeur is the highest point in Paris other than the Eiffel Tower, and it was absolutely mobbed with people. On the stairs right outside of the church there were some dudes playing guitar, and with all the people sitting on the stairs it was almost like a concert in an amphitheater. The four of us — me, Racheal, Sarah and Sarah's friend Naana — walked around Montmartre for a while until we found an acceptable restaurant, and had a very delicious not-French dinner, which was probably all the more delicious because all I'd had to eat that day were Pringles and two bites of this weird crusty pastry thing with meat filling that smelled like spring rolls and caused the subsequent abandonment of the food item. After dinner, Racheal and I walked back to our hotel and I proceeded to pass out.

In the morning, we got up bright and early to go on an optional guided trip of Chartres and Versailles. It was kind of awful because I honestly felt like I had a fever for most of the morning, but I popped some ibuprofen and was able to function. And Sarah and Naana came too, which was exciting! Chartres is home to a massive cathedral, and we learned aaaaall about it. Even things I didn't want to know. But most of it I found interesting, like always, and the town itself was very cute and small. We ate crepes and strange bitter crepe-like things filled with not-sweet food, like ham, or eggs, or cheese. But it was delicious. And then it was off to Versailles, which was large. Huge. Gargantuan. It is hard for me to understand what possessed people to say "I think I will build the largest thing anyone has ever seen. Ever. Ever." But then I remember that these people were kings and queens who had more money than God and it makes sense. Luke, one of the TAs on the trip, gave a little talk about Versailles before we went inside and noted that at the height of its use, Versailles and maintaining the staff and building and feeding everyone involved took up 25% of the France's national budget. He found an estimate saying that if someone tried to sell Versailles today, the lowest bid would be somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 billion dollars. Am I getting across how completely lavish this place is? It was incredible. We went out to the gardens and took pretty pictures, and obviously saw the rooms on display, including the Hall of Mirrors, where many important things took place, and where the king of France used to walk. Thinking about stuff like that makes me crazy.

After the train ride back to Paris proper, Sarah, Naana and I went up in the Eiffel Tower and stayed there for about an hour and a half. We went all the way to the top, and my stomach definitely dropped on the elevator ride up. I don't know what I was expecting, but it is a lot bigger than I thought it would be, and riding up in the middle of some steel bars is not comforting. Sarah and I have this habit of planning things perfectly without meaning to, so we were actually at the top of the Eiffel Tower as the sun set. Paris is beautiful at night. Don't let anyone tell you different. And for a little bit every hour, the tower sparkles! Lights flash on and off and it's like a cabaret show, but a million miles in the air and for ten minutes. It's very pretty. We descended in full dark and had an indulgent dinner nearby, where we all had some escargot, which was pretty much exactly what I thought it was going to be — People had told me that the overall impression escargot leaves you with is "Wow, that was grossly chewy," and they were right. It was chewy. But I didn't think it was anything special. After that, we returned home to our respective hotels.

In the morning, I got to sleep in until ten — what luxury! — and then got up for lunch and kind of bummed around relaxing a bit in the hotel room until checkout. I met up with Sarah and Naana again at the previously planned Saint Chappelle, which was far more gorgeous than any of us expected, I think. There are two levels, and the lower one is painted in blues and golds and it's pretty and everything, but then you walk up a stone spiral staircase and come out in this room where you think for a second that the walls are simply made of stained glass. They aren't, but it's really hard to tell. It was practically floor-to-ceiling. Gorgeous. Different from Italian churches, obviously, but still gorgeous. After Saint Chappelle, we went to Notre Dame, which was a different experience than the first time I was there because a mass was going on, so the whole room echoed with decadent organ playing and everything seemed more beautiful because of it.

After Notre Dame, we grabbed a quick crepe and some free Red Bull from a Red Bull dispensing car and sat in a really nice park to eat it, and then took a very long subway ride to the Paris Catacombs, which were closed. I was really disappointed. The catacombs were what I wanted to see most. And it wasn't like it was closed because it was Sunday; they were closed for no apparent reason. It was really frustrating, and we wasted a 1.50 E subway ticket getting there. So we rode back into the main part of town and saw the Arc du Triomphe and the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, and then walked along the Champs-Elysees for a while. But at that point, I had to go back to the hotel to meet my group to go home, so I parted ways from them.

The ride home was equally hellish, though slightly better because I wrangled a top-bunk position, which meant slightly more air and more room to move. Even so, it was pretty miserable. And we got in to Florence at about 8 in the morning, so I just went straight to school for classes, then came home at 1 and took a shower and a nap. I've been sleeping a lot more lately, which is incredible, since I can't sleep in any more.

This week has been nice, but it's already gone and I don't understand how. This morning for a site visit we went to the Medici Chapel and saw some Michelangelo sculptures. That man is a genius. I walked around an open air market all around Piazza San Lorenzo and haggled very effectively for some fake Armani sunglasses. And after that, I went to the Accademia and saw the David, which was nice, because I got to skip the line and get in for free with my recently-recovered Museum Pass! The David is very large and very oddly-proportioned, and I know why! It is because Michelangelo originally thought he was carving a sculpture for up on the Duomo, and you have to proportion things differently if you want them to be visible from 40 feet below. And then in the middle, the people who gave him the commission were like, "Just kidding, this is for right in front of the palace," and he completed the statue with normal proportions. In all honesty, I couldn't figure out why it was the most famous statue in the world. I thought some of his other pieces were much more beautiful. But I guess if you carve a 14-foot-tall naked man and put it in front of a palace it's going to get more press coverage than a normal sized naked man in a church somewhere.

And now I am home! Writing a blog post to appease my mother. This weekend I'm going to Sicily, where I will see a lot of palazzi and learn about the mafia and work in fields that were confiscated from the mafia for all of four hours. I feel like it is very pretentious to act like the focus of the trip is that four hours of working when in actuality most of our time is spent sightseeing, but oh well. I'm going to Sicily, and that is one of the places I didn't want to leave Italy without seeing. We're flying down on Friday morning (I have to be at school at 3.45 in the morning! BLEURGH) and coming back Sunday night. By overnight train. Note to self: wrangle a top bunk again. It's all new people. No one will know you've been privileged twice.

I'm alive!

I am still alive, despite reports to the contrary! I'm just doing a horrible job of updating! My dad guessed that my writing would fall off as time went on, and it obviously completely has, as it's been nearly a month since the last time I wrote.

The reason? Extreme business. First came midterms, then spring break, when internet access was limited, and then more traveling (to London, to cities in Italy). My purse was stolen over spring break, in Austria, and I didn't have the energy to recount my tales for everyone for about two weeks after that.

But this weekend I'm off to Paris on an overnight train, which means I'll have a lot of free time, so I'm hoping to write catch-up posts on the train and post them all at once! Not ideal for you readers, but it'll get me caught up, finally. Don't forget me! I promise I'm coming back!

The tale of five cities

So much time has passed! So many things have happened!

Let's see, where did I leave off... ah, yes. Right before my trip to five Etruscan cities. The trip that, in all honesty, may have changed my life by giving me an interest in the Etruscans as a field of study.

Since I don't remember if I've mentioned it before, the trip was for my Etruscan and Roman Art and Archaeology course, which is my favorite course, and two of my better friends here are in it. The professor is also incredible, knowledgable and interesting to listen to, which is a requirement for me to like the course. The presence of all these things meant that it was bound to be a good trip from the start.

The trip started at seven thirty in the morning on Friday, when we boarded the bus and took off for Chiusi. In Chiusi, our first stop was at the Etruscan museum in town, which has a fantastic collection of the type of artifacts found at Chiusi, some of which are found only in Chiusi, like funerary urns made a certain way, or sculptures made from pietra fetida, an Italian rock that has sulphur in it and reeks when it gets wet or is scratched, and smells faintly bad when dry and in a museum. The artifacts in the museum were interesting if not extraordinarily so, and it was a great start to the trip.

Next in Chiusi we went into the tunnels. The Etruscans who lived in Chiusi 2500 years ago realized that the ground they lived on made a perfect water filter, so they dug channels into the ground and collected potable rainwater that had been filtered down through the layers. The tunnels are now open to the public -- for a fee -- so we headed down. At the present time, the tunnels end in what used to be a holding tank for water for the Roman fire brigade. From underground, we climbed up into a very tall tower and saw Tuscany and Umbria stretched out before us. It was beautiful and stunning; no matter how many beautiful views I see, I'm always struck by each and every one.

That ended our time in Chiusi, so we boarded the bus again for Orvieto. Orvieto was built on top of a cliff, and we went into another museum there, which I found to be less memorable than any other museum, but then we sequestered a public bus -- something you could never do in America -- to take us down out of the city to the Crocifisso del Tufo. What is the Crocifisso del Tufo, you ask? Well, let me tell you. The Etruscans are very well known because they buried their dead in necropolises, whose layout mirrored that of the city for the living. These necropolises' layout and construction varies by site and time period, but they are how we know most of what we know about the Etruscans. (The Etruscans, for anyone who knows absolutely nothing, are a Greek- and Roman-influenced culture that lived on the Italian peninsula from about 800 - 80 BCE.) The Crocifisso del Tufo was revolutionary because it was laid out along the cardinal directions, and shows an understanding of city planning that wasn't present before. We clambered among the ruins and into tombs where dead people once laid and touched writing that had been carved 2500 years ago and saw first-hand what we had been learning about in class since the start of the semester. We boarded the bus and went off to Tarquinia, where we were staying the night.

One of the most memorable things of the trip was dinner. For dinner, we went as a group to a one of the best restaurants in Tarquinia, one that our professor has been to so many times the people there know him. I had yet to have a good birthday dinner, so I was looking forward to indulging in really good seafood, as Tarquinia is right on the ocean. I ordered the "Frittura al mare miste," which translates to fried seafood, and was expecting what I'd get in America if I ordered the same thing: nondescript seafood covered in batter and fried to the same brown coat. No. I got whole fish, whole shrimp, and little octopi legs and rings, lightly fried until they were perfectly flaky, with all the bones intact and with all the legs intact. It basically looked like a tide pool leapt into the fryer and onto my plate. They were delicious. Add to that the two bottles of wine that our professor bought for each table, the appetizer my friend Lisa and I split of shrimp and artichoke, and the dessert of almond cake, and you have one very full, very happy girl.

In the morning it was time for another museum; the Etruscan museum in Tarquinia, which was very big and had a lot of very cool things but nothing spectacular to people who don't have more than a passing interest in the Etruscans. Then it was off to the necropolis of Tarquinia, which is built on a cliff and is thought to have more than 6000 tombs. They've all been dug into the ground and are some of the most beautifully frescoed Etruscan tombs in existence, but they're unfortunately shut off from the entrance with Plexiglass so they won't deteriorate any more, which means you can't walk around in the tombs or even see them very well. Still, the images in those tombs are some of the ones that are referenced whenever Etruscan art comes up, so they were definitely worth a visit.

Fourth city! We're almost done. The fourth city was Ceveteri, which was incredible. At the necropolis in Ceveteri, the Etruscans started on top of a layer of bedrock and carved a city of the dead down into it. The necropolis itself is open to the public and the tombs are carved into rock, and you need a flashlight in order to see anything. It's incredible. I felt so silly for being so excited about "exploring" tombs with my flashlight but really, the necropolis is so big that Lisa and I wandered off and didn't see anyone, and it was like we were alone in the necropolis exploring things. It was fantastic. I could go on about it for hours but I'm sure you'd all be bored.

Last city! Now we're really almost done! We hopped back on the bus and headed over to Norchia, which, our professor tells us, is "a very mysterious place." If I remember correctly, the inhabitants of Norchia abandoned the living city for no apparent reason, but of course, we went to see the necropolis. The necropolis here is built into the side of a cliff in the middle of nowhere -- we got dropped off in a parking lot and walked for fifteen minutes to get to a cliff, then climbed down the cliff to the necropolis ruins. On the way, our professor pointed out the ruins of a 12th century monastary on the cliff on the opposite side, and we ended up hiking over there to see them as well. Then back down to the valley floor and back up to the Norchia necropolis, which was cordoned off by some waist-height fences. Our professor said to us, "All right, have fun... I think the best place to hop the fence is over there."

We clambered about the ruins ourselves and it was incredible. This girl Jen and I went down into a tomb and discovered that it had nine sarcophagi in it, and we spent a good fifteen minutes trying to reach something we thought could have been a bone in one of them; we propped a lid against my back and I stretched out full length to get it after wedging myself in a corner. It turned out to be wood but that didn't matter at all. When I came out of the tomb I was grimy and sweaty and a little bit bloody and I don't know that I'd ever felt more accomplished or happier with anything I've done that's even remotely related to archaeology. It was fantastic. Sarah teases me a little bit for getting slightly spiritual about these sort of experiences so I won't go on for long, but let me just say that somehow, being in those types of places, thinking about the people who were there 2500 years before I stepped on the ground, just makes me marvel. It's so incredible for me to think about.

Finally, I've finished the field trip! Now a quick preview of upcoming entries: A brief summary of midterm exams followed by my first few days of spring break in Lyon, France, with my friend Camille. (It's been fantastic!) Unfortunately, I forgot to get a universal charger before I left Italy, which means that although I have my computer with me, it is out of batteries and I have no way to charge it. I've been stealing Cam's computer periodically to check my email and other things I need, but we're going tomorrow to find a transformer, so hopefully I'll be set. If not... well, Sarah has one, so I'll be up and running by Thursday evening at the latest. This also means I have no phone, because I don't want to wear out the batteries if I have no way of charging them for the next four days. Here's hoping we find a universal transformer!

The Trinity, spring break, tombs and Mr. Housley

It looks like I jinxed the weather with my last post! Since Monday it's been rainy and gross, not to mention humid. And I don't know if it's my volumizing shampoo or the climate here, but my hair is going insane. It's incredibly frustrating, especially since I can't wear my hair in a ponytail because it's still too short.

This week was generally uneventful. Classes go on, as classes are wont to do; for my Wednesday site visit we went to the Church of Santa Maria Novella to study Masaccio's fresco The Trinity, which is generally considered to be the first Renaissance work. It was very impressive but I don't feel like typing out why, because it has to do with the alignment of the shapes and figures and other things like that. I can tell you, however, that it is the first painting to be done using one-point perspective — you know, the technique we learn in third grade with the vanishing point and horizon line. Masaccio uses it to make it look like the fresco is another room in the church. It's so strange to think about something like that not being the norm at the time. Our TAs said that people in the 15th century would have been so unused to seeing illusionist paintings like that that people occasionally tried to reach into the room.

Santa Maria Novella is right by the train station, so after the site visit, I went there to buy my tickets for Lyon! Everything went off without a hitch, except for the fact that I switched the airport I'm supposed to fly into with the train station, and my tickets run out 45 minutes outside Lyon proper. This just means I have to get back to the train station, and I hope they can change it. I'll be staying with my friend Camille in her house in Lyon for the first weekend of break, before leaving on Tuesday to go to Vienna, where I'll be on my own for a few days before meeting up with Sarah. It looks like Prague is going to end up being a no-go — Sarah and I are both champion procrastinators, which means in this case we kind of screwed ourselves, as tickets out of Prague are close to $400. Instead of Prague, we may go to Salzburg, or Venice, or Zurich or Istanbul or Beijing or you know. It's a week to go and we're still deciding. I hope I'll be better at planning before I get out of Europe.

Tomorrow I'm off south on a two-day trip to visit five Etruscan ruins, with my favorite class and my favorite professor. I am exceedingly excited, as is my entire class. Two of my closer friends are in that class, so it should be even more fun than normal. And Mom, the flashlight you made me bring will come in handy! Professor Ewell said we should bring a flashlight if we have one so we can better see the tombs. (Etruscan tombs are arranged in necropoli, and, for the most part, are carved out of bedrock.) We'll be staying in Tarquinia overnight, which is right by the ocean, and Professor Ewell said they have excellent seafood, and that he'd make reservations at a nice restaurant for any of us who want to go with him there. I think we might all end up going, because we all adore him and think he's the smartest man alive. If any SMA girls are reading this, he's like the Mr. Housley of Syracuse in Florence.

I'm finally caught up in my pictures! I just today realized I had yet to post pictures from the last day of my trip to Mantua/Padua/Venice. With this post, I'm all caught up on both posting and pictures, and therefore entirely ready to fall behind after the trip this weekend.

My first post as a true adult

Today was one of the first truly warm days in a while, and I took advantage of it — I write this from the Piazza della Vittoria, a small piazza just down the street from my apartment with the Filippinis. I was so excited by the sun that I took all my homework outside and sat on two benches and did it here in the piazza, along with a healthy amount of people-watching.

This weekend was also beautiful, the first truly nice days in a while. It was so warm that Liz and I were able to leave our window open all Friday night without even getting chilly, which has never happened before and was certainly an enjoyable experience. The only downside is that Italian homes do not have screens, so I'm making friends with a lot of mosquitos. If by "making friends" you mean "luring in and killing." Which I do.

As some of you know, I missed my bus to Siena on Friday, but I'm not worried. There's another trip I'll be able to go on at the end of March, and since I slept through my alarm again, I clearly needed the sleep. I slept half the day away, then woke up and took my Italian translation of Neil Gaiman's Stardust out to this same piazza and did the same thing I did today: read and people-watched, with a short break to duck into a caffè for food. I was still exhausted at night so I stayed in.

Saturday was much of the same. I was late to rise, and didn't really do much until about eight at night, when I went with a few of my friends to Pizzeria Spera around the corner and had literally the best pizza I've ever had in my life. After that, we went on to a small bar and had a few drinks to celebrate me turning twenty one, even though that technically didn't happen until Sunday. And Sunday, while pleasant, was low-key; it was obviously a school night so I didn't want to go out, and the joy of being able to buy alcohol has worn off since being in Italy. I imagine I'll be annoyed when I get back to the States and have to start presenting my card everywhere.

Oddly enough, the 24th is Gabriella's birthday as well, and after dinner she surprised us with champagne and a two layer cake with Chantilly cream that she had made herself. It was beyond delicious. For the after-dinner coffee, she brought out the rest of the cream and we put it in our coffee, which I guess is something they do here. Liz and I aren't complaining.

I also got to learn some fun swear words because Lorenzo was watching the Milano-Palermo match during dinner.

Life here goes on. I was just thinking the other day how strange it is that in some ways, I now know Florence better than I know Portland or Oberlin. Portland is understandable to me; it's... I don't know how many times larger than Florence, but it's a lot of times. And I rarely walk in Portland. But for Oberlin I have no excuse; I don't even know where some of the biggest buildings are because I am rarely very far from north campus.

Florence is small but I know the street names and the piazzas. I generally know which direction I'm facing. I know how to get to several key points and I know where the bars are, I know where the ATMs are. I know which busses take me which places and I know which bars have the best midday sandwiches. It's a strange feeling to be so familiar with a place after just five weeks, but I guess as I've said, Florence isn't that big, and I've been spending a lot of time wandering.

I can't wait for it to be warm all the time.

This weekend I have my first trip I'm really excited about -- a trip with my Etruscan and Roman art class to five Etruscan cities. I love the professor and two of my better friends are in the class, so I'm excited to go for more than one reason. That's from Friday to Saturday; Sunday, as always, I'll wake up in the afternoon and proceed to procrastinate.

I can't believe it's week six of classes. The amount of time that has passed is beyond me. Midterm exams are next week and while I'm not worried, I'm also not sure how much of that is because Oberlin's grade policy is pass/fail. We'll see. These will be my firsts tests in all my classes, and it'll be interesting to see what they're like.

And two weeks from then, spring break! Sarah and I have finally decided on travel plans — we're going to Vienna and Prague together, after I spend a few days in Lyon with my friend Camille. We'll actually be meeting up with our good friend Ben in Prague, and then he'll catch up with us in Italy a few days later and we'll get to spend another bit of time together. After that week back, Sarah and I are jetting off to London for Easter weekend — it's really hard for me to imagine what it'll be like being back in a country where English is the main language! Hopefully we'll get to see our friend Andrew Mooney for a bit while we're there. And then it's back to Florence for me and back to Córdoba for her.

The bulk of my really exciting weekend trips — Pompeii, Sicily, Paris — happen after the break, so I'm obviously really excited to get back, oddly enough.

And now it's time for more reading. Expect another update when something interesting happens.

Rome and more and more

And once again I'm far behind in my blogging! I keep telling myself I'll do better and then I simply forget.

I guess it's about time to talk about my Rome trip — from last weekend, the 8th and 9th.

To start off, it was an incredible trip. I've tried to explain the feeling of being in Rome to people and to my private journal and I am unable to properly express myself at all. Rome is old, and gorgeous, and to be surrounded by the history and know that I am walking around in the city that used to rule the world is a staggering feeling. I loved every second of it. It was absolutely my favorite two days since getting to Italy.

We all met in the train station at 7.30 in the morning to get on our train to Rome, and once in the city, we started off the first day with a visit to the Vatican Museum. This museum apparently has over 10,000 rooms, and as our tour guide joked, "We're going to take you through all of them." They didn't, obviously, but we got the highlights: the Hall of Maps, the School of Athens, key sculptures in the scope of Western Art. The Hall of Maps is, predictably, a hall where the walls are covered in maps. The School of Athens is a fresco by Raphael that depicts Plato and Aristotle talking, and the rest of the wall is taken up with all the prominent minds of the history of the world. It is... staggering. It's impossible to describe the feeling, and you can either look up the fresco yourself or check it out in my photos. The fresco is massive and part of the fun is trying to pick out who everyone is; you can find Michelangelo easily enough, and possibly Pythagoras and it's thought that Raphael included himself as well.

Of course, the highlight of the Vatican Museum was as we exited through the Sistine Chapel. While the chapel was beautiful and overwhelming, what was more overwhelming for me was knowing that I was seeing something for myself that had been thought of as a masterpiece since it was creation. Being in Rome was a constant exercise in feeling like a part of something bigger; I was one person who came to see the same things people have been coming to see for hundreds and hundreds of years. There is nothing like that in the States and frankly, there isn't a whole lot like that in the world, comparatively. It is an incredible feeling. I snuck pictures of the Sistine ceiling because I object to the idea of it being copyrighted, and I think it is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, which should come as entirely no surprise.

Directly after that we went into St. Peter's Basilica, which is, without a doubt, the most lavish thing I've ever seen. It's extremely hard to describe how big everything is. The ceiling was huge. The basilica was huge. And "huge" doesn't begin to describe the amount of space involved. There were sumptuous decorations everywhere and I saw the seat the Pope sits in, and I saw the Pietà, and I don't know how much more there is to describe to you without the use of the pictures, which should now be uploaded.

After that we had a long break for lunch, and then we were bussed to our hotel by about 4 PM. I ended up rooming with two girls I didn't know very well but who I ended up really liking, and at night we went out to walk around the city. We got dinner at one of the best restaurants in Rome; I had veal with prosciutto on top, some kind of green vegetables and apples, and I'm fairly sure was one of the best things I've ever eaten. We also started off with an appetizer of cheeses, so we all felt refined carefully cutting and eating cheese by itself like we were some kind of cheese connoisseurs.

In the morning, we got up bright and early for a long walk through "Ancient Row," — the Colosseum, the Roman forum and the Pantheon. And here is where words actually fail me. When I came to college, I wanted to be a Roman archaeologist, and these ruins are why; they are overwhelming and I think I haven't ever seen anything as beautiful. The designs and construction of such massive, beautiful buildings, combined with the history that happened right there, was almost too much to digest. I was standing where thousands of Romans watched their countrymen die in gladiatorial battles, or where they walked every day; I sat on the stone on which Antony is said to have laid the body of Julius Caesar. I can't begin to describe the feeling, which makes me feel like a failure as a writer, but since I can't even enunciate the feeling in my head, I don't feel so bad. Suffice to say I took over 500 photos and the best of them are posted, so maybe you'll get an echo of the same feeling of being there.

In the afternoon we went to the Borghese Gallery and saw the Bernini sculptures, which were — guess what I'll say here — some of the more beautiful things I've ever seen. Bernini is an absolute master; on his sculptures, fingers dug into flesh and you could see the skin pull and the body move. It was incredible. Our tour guide (who, incidentally, was the best one on the trip) would talk about the statues and then turn and look at them for a moment and each time he'd go, "It's... it's rock, guys." And no one laughed, because we were all in awe; it is rock. I can't imagine the skill it takes to make something like that and I wonder whether sculptural prodigies today still exist or if they'll just never know it because it's a different world. Either way, Italian art is overwhelming. I also fell in love with a painter named Caravaggio, who was from the Venetian school rather than the Florentine and known for painting things on a black background. If you and I have the same taste, look up both Bernini and Caravaggio if you don't know who they are; you won't be disappointed.

I returned to Florence after the Borghese. Considering we were only there for two days, I'm pretty happy with the amount I got to see. I love these school trips; I wouldn't have even known to go to the Borghese if I had gone to Rome by myself.

The week of classes was, as always, underwhelming. I'm frustrated in all of my classes because I'm used to Oberlin classes and Oberlin people, and being in an environment where the professor will ask questions of the class is met with a minimum of four people raising their hands to answer, rather than the complete silence that reigns here until one brave soul answers with a question: "They couldn't be true fascists because of religion...?" In my Italian class we're still doing review after a month, and that is frustrating too. I didn't come here to be challenged in my classes, but I guess I am still just surprised at the differences.

This weekend I went on a mandatory field trip for my Masterpieces of Art class to Mantua and Padua, and frankly, Mantua was a little bit boring. We saw some notable pieces but nothing really spoke to me. Padua was a little better; we looked at the church of St. Anthony and the Arena Chapel, and those were beautiful, but we only spent 20 minutes in each one so I found it supremely frustrating, especially with how much I was struck by the Arena Chapel. The Arena Chapel is a chapel built by a man named Scrovegni to serve as a place of worship for his people and also as a final resting place for his father's body. Scrovegni's father was a usurer on a massive scale; he is actually the usurer that Dante meets in the Seventh Circle of Hell, so by building the chapel and dedicating it to the Virgin, he hoped to redeem his father. The chapel is completely covered in frescoes by a man named Giotto, who was one of the main men in the precursor to the Renaissance — the chapel was finished in 1305. There is one panel of his frescoes, the Kiss of Judas, that struck me flat, to be honest. Judas is coming to kiss Jesus and give him away, and Jesus is looking Judas right in the eyes and I just saw in his expression what I feel Giotto must have been trying to convey; Judas is about to betray Jesus, and I saw Jesus saying "I know what you are doing and I know what is to come and I am unafraid." I was staggered that 700 years after it was painted, something could still be so evocative and universal. The chapel was beautiful.

Padua is very close to Venice, and our return tickets were out of Venice, so after we finished in Padua I went with my friend Hwei Ling to Venice. We didn't do a whole lot of traditional sightseeing; for the most part we walked around, since we weren't staying the night and neither of us wanted to spend a lot of money. I did get to see the beach, which was something I didn't get to see the first time, and I bought more Venetian glass than I probably should have. (Along with slippers, which is glorious; the floors in Florence are marble and they freeze my feet through socks. My toes have yet to be cold after I got home.) We got on the train at 7.57 and we pulled into the Florence station at 11.58, so it was a very long and tiring journey. I walked home from the train station very, very quickly and fell asleep without doing much else.

Next week: Siena and nothing else! Maybe I'll finally catch up on all the sleep I've been missing.

Another week gone...

6.18 PM

Florence, Italy

I have no idea how I keep losing all these days. I guess time is just going by really quickly, or I'm really tired, or a combination of both. In any case, a quick recap of the past week.

Last Wednesday I went with one of my classes on a site visit to Santa Croce, which is a Franciscan church in downtown Florence that houses the tombs of Machiavelli, Michelangelo and Galileo, among other important Italian personalities. It has a tomb for Dante as well, but Dante's body is actually in Ravenna. The church itself was gorgeous, as everything here is; high, vaulted ceilings, beautiful and moving frescoes, rich color everywhere you look. After class ended I spent some time just walking around by myself and taking pictures of everything. Except, being the idiot that I am, I didn't realize Michelangelo's tomb was Michelangelo's tomb and therefore didn't take any pictures because I didn't like the decoration. Ah, well. Wikipedia "Santa Croce" if you really want to see it.

Last Friday I went on an all-school trip to Assisi, which is one of the more beautiful places I've been. "Assisi is built on a hill," said our tour guide. WRONG. Assisi is built on a mountain. For people familiar with Lord of the Rings, I give you this metaphor: walking around in Assisi is like walking around in the White City. Everything is steep.

We spent several hours inside the Franciscan church and monastery that was buried to honor St. Francis just a few years after his death. The walls there are painted with beautiful frescoes that are still intact, for the most part. I got anxious when our tour guide told us that Assisi was hit by a huge earthquake in 1997 which knocked some of the vaults down from the ceiling and killed four people, while a group from SUF was touring in the lower basilica. Scary, no? But Assisi was incredibly beautiful and I made a few new friends, which is always a plus.

On Saturday I went on a day trip to Pisa and Lucca, and I have to say, it wasn't one of my more favorite places I've been. Pisa was interesting and beautiful, but we only saw the cathedral complex (which includes the bell tower/Leaning Tower), but I suppose I didn't miss much since people who have been there before said that the whole place was a tourist draw. Lucca is supposed to be one of the more beautiful Italian cities but in all honesty I didn't think it was anything special. The mediocrity of this day trip could also have been influenced by the fact that it was raining on and off all day and I had no coat.

That's really about it! Last night was the last night of Carnevale so I went out and saw everyone walking around in costume. It was fantastic. I wish America had traditions like that. Mardi Gras doesn't count because it's vulgar.

And now I have three chapters of a history book to read! I'll still try and be better, but it looks like the blog might go in fits and starts.

Rosso e nero

I'll do a real post later, but I needed to document one of the funnier things that has happened so far. At dinner tonight, Liz and I were talking in broken Italian with everyone about how we might go to a soccer game on Sunday. The two teams playing are Florence and Milan; Florence, obviously, is the city we live in, and Milan is Lorenzo's team. (Lorenzo, however, refuses to go to the match because the only seats left are in the Florentine section.) Liz asked what would happen if she went to the Florentine section and wore red and black — Milan colors. The table erupted in Italian, and Titta said over everyone, quite forcefully and in English, "No, no, that is not—" and here she stumbled for a word, and came up with "...useful." It was about the funniest thing she could have said and I have no idea why. Liz and I laughed for about five minutes and promised we wouldn't wear red and black if we go. And don't worry, everyone else laughed too.

A note on dinner

Florence, Italy

9.05 PM

Dinner here is a ritual. A delicious, delicious ritual. Liz and I have to be home by 8.30 or we have to call and say we won't be coming, because dinner is at 8.30 and they expect us to be home.

Dinner starts, every night, with a pasta course. Gabriella apparently makes it only for Liz and I because we're the only ones with bowls at our places and we're the only ones who ever eat it, but neither of us mind. After that, the bowls get whisked away and it's time for the main course. This is always, always delicious, and every night Gabriella cooks everything. Last night it was huge hunks of mozzerella with bread, and that was the least gustatorially delightful.

The TV is always on during dinner and it is always the same show: Striscia la notizia. I haven't been able to figure out a direct translation yet, or even what the show is, but from what I can gather it's a national program that recaps the news of the day but in sketch form. There are two hosts, who are a gorgeous young blonde Swiss-Italian woman and an older man who dresses "hip," and they have different news correspondents who dress up in superhero costumes or suits made entirely of euros and go interview famous people, like the royal family or Senators. I can barely understand anything but the whole show is ridiculous and I enjoy it immensely.

Dinner conversation moves fast; Gabriella, Titta, Guenda and Lorenzo talk quickly about things and sometimes they ask us about school or if we are going out that night, and Liz and I scramble to form sentences like "School was very long and tomorrow I must walk from Piazza Savonarola to Santa Croce in fifteen minutes" or "I'm staying home tonight because I'm really tired and I have homework." We know they're talking to us because we hear our names, and I have to say that I love the Italian accent. Kate becomes "Ket" and Liz, "Leez." We talk with them for a little bit, and they're wonderful because they talk slower and don't laugh when we don't know words or mix up genders or endings or meanings, and then the conversation turns back to them. I love simply listening to them talk because I think Italian is just a wonderful language to listen to, and sometimes I can pick things up. Usually I know enough words to be able to follow along very vaguely.

The main course ends after Titta, Gabriella and Lorenzo have tried to get Liz and I to eat more of everything at least twice. Then they clear the table (they won't let us help; we ask every night) and Gabriella returns from the kitchen with smaller plates and another set of forks and knives, and moves a huge platter of fruit from one table to the dinner table, and everyone eats fruit. Normally I go for bananas and mandarin oranges, but tonight I had a kiwi. Every single night, Gabriella eats at least one apple, normally two; she cores and peels the whole thing with a knife and by the end there's a huge stack of apple peels on her plate. When Guenda eats fruit, she eats oranges, and she eats them entirely with a knife and fork.

Then comes sweets. This is either a huge platter of chocolate or some kind of cake that Gabriella produces. Keeping in theme with the meal as the whole, this is also delicious. After the sweets, we get "Volete caffè?" and my answer is always yes. We drink tiny cups of coffee with huge amounts of sugar and then dinner is over.

The reason I mention it is because dinner tonight was epic. I was just thinking yesterday, after the dinner of solely mozzarella, olive oil, and bread, that I was really craving meat, and Gabriella read my mind. Along with the starting pasta course, there were little pieces of bread with spread on them. The main course was incredible. Thinly-sliced prosciutto and hunks of Florentine cheese, home-grilled hamburger patties, salad, cooked cauliflower, and yet more delicious bread. It was by far the best meal I've had here. I couldn't even have any fruit. I am now deliciously full, and it is time for homework.

Since last Saturday, part two: Venice

Florence, Italy

10.48 PM

Now to recap the last two days.

I woke up very early on Saturday morning — and no, this isn't by my own standards. Six thirty is early to everyone, right? Anyway, the train station is actually fairly close to my house, so it was just a twenty minute walk to get on the train by 8.30. I went to Venice with a group of five other girls: Lyndse, Natalie, Becs, Celi and Tavia. The train ride took three and a bit hours, and with just one transfer in the Bologna station, we were in Venice! And it was one of the more beautiful things I've seen. I couldn't believe that I was actually there. I almost still can't.

The day was pretty high-energy. We got off the train and wandered around for a while to find some food, since none of us had eaten and it was about time for lunch anyway. After lunch, the first order of business was buying masks. It was Carnevale in Venice, which is the time of year when pretty much everyone in the world comes to Venice to see everyone go crazy. Just walking around, I heard French, Spanish, German, eastern European languages and what I think was Arabic, and that was just what I was able to pick out. Most tourists buy masks from one of a thousand stands with mass-produced masks, but we actually found a small shop where the owner handmade all his masks, and the owner was incredibly sweet. He was so fond of us and he actually gave us discounts. I was so fascinated by how personal everyone's choice of masks was; no person's mask would have looked as good on someone else. With the handmade store, we had that option; all the masks at the stands were formulaic. Gorgeous, but formulaic.

So we picked out our masks and then started wandering again. This day was basically made up of walking all over Venice — we looked at beautiful stores with delicate glass pieces or incredibly delicious-looking chocolate or, of course, masks and costumes. Becs and I made a trip to our hotel on the island of Lido, so we got to see the city from the ocean that first day, which was a sight I'm not likely to forget. It's just so beautiful. It was really hard for me to comprehend that I was actually in Venice, which is a place I've wanted to go for a very long time but never thought I would actually get to. We had dinner at a little pizza shop and it was so delicious!

Also during that first afternoon, we all chipped in for a gondola ride. They're fairly expensive, but with six people we were able to get a pretty good deal. It was such a different experience from the ferry and from walking around — so slow and peaceful, and we were in the city itself so we went under bridges and were close to people. We were all wearing our masks and people kept taking pictures of us and it was just so cool. I don't have enough adjectives to describe Venice.

And of course, all of this was interspersed between walking around and seeing the sights. Venice goes crazy for Carnevale, so people were wearing elaborate costumes and the entire city was packed with people. It was insane. Unfortunately the festivities which were supposed to happen on Saturday were postponed until Sunday because two men who were working to set up the Carnevale stuff died, so the city was in mourning. That was a little disappointing, as was the fact that a lot of bars and clubs were closed at night. We walked for hours and hours looking for somewhere to go, but ended up going to the hotel with the intention of freshening up. Of course, once we sat on the beds it was impossible to move again. I was so exhausted by that point that I actually fell asleep in the middle of a conversation with Natalie, with all the lights on.

In the morning, we woke up and explored Lido a little bit before taking a ferry back to Piazza San Marco, which is where everything was centered. We caught the Flight of the Angels, which is traditionally when beautiful women in angel costumes fly on a line down from the top of the belltower in Piazza San Marco to the ground, but we just saw a man, and "Gangster's Paradise" was blasting over the loudspeakers. I found out later that the man was Coolio. Yeah, I'm also confused as to why Coolio was in Venice, but hey, I'll take it in stride.

After the Flight of the Angels, we got back on the ferry and just took it all the way around the city to see the most of it. The whole trip took about an hour, but it was still just relaxing and beautiful. We had seats on the outside of the ferry so we could see everything, but in the back so it wasn't so cold. And it was here that I made my fatal mistake, because I left my purse on the ferry when we got off.

We went back to Piazza San Marco after that, where festivities had started up on a stage that was set up, and at that point, my friend Natalie was certain she saw Celi, another of our friends, holding my purse, but we had gotten separated. So I spent a few hours being nervous but feeling reassured by Natalie's certainty. But when we continued to not hear from that other group, I got anxious and started heading back to the ferry stop at which we had debarked. On the way, I got a call from Celi saying she did not have my purse. Of course that was horrifying. The man at the ferry stop didn't speak much English but I did speak enough Italian to get across the "I lost something" idea, and he pointed me towards the Piazzale Roma, a thirty minute ferry ride. The whole time I was so anxious and sad and nervous. It was absolutely awful. My purse had my money, my passport, my keys to my house in Florence, my iPod... the only things I had in my pockets were my phone and my camera.

And then I got to the main office, and there it was. Completely intact. Everything still inside. I couldn't believe how lucky I was. I still can't. I have been so paranoid about keeping track of it since then — it basically had the same effect on me as if I had lost it for good.

The process of losing, searching for and finding my purse took almost three hours, believe it or not; Venice was so packed that what should have been a five or ten minute walk took twenty minutes to half an hour. By the time I got back to the Piazza San Marco to meet my friends, we had all decided to head over to the train station, which was maybe a forty minute ferry ride. I didn't even meet up with them before turning around and hopping right back on the ferry.

By the train station, we went to a grocery store to get snacks for the train ride home, and sat and watched all the people passing by. We sat for a while by a group of Native American performers who completely enthralled a group of little girls dressed up like Disney princesses, and then headed to the station to get good seats. After another transfer in Bologna, we were back in Florence, and just a twenty minute walk after that, I was home.

This entry does not correctly convey how incredible it was. Other than losing my purse, it was two days where I was entirely in awe at the beauty and grandeur of a place built on water. You don't notice it when you're there, but the fact that there are no cars or mopeds is so strange. Everyone walks, and you don't have to worry about getting run over. The canals add something that is unequalled anywhere else in the world, and being there for Carnevale was something else. It was an incredible trip. I'd love to go back sometime when it's not so packed and see more of what the city has to offer, but even if I don't go back, I'm so satisfied with what I did get to see and do. It was an absolutely fantastic weekend and I'm so thankful I had the chance. I'm pretty sure Venice at Carnevale qualifies as a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Since last Saturday, part one: classes and the first weekend day

Florence, Italy

2.20 PM

I just cannot believe it's been over a week since the last time I wrote in here. I have to get better at keeping track of time! I blame the first week of classes and the number of errands that I had to run, which meant that by the time I got home at the end of the day, the last thing I wanted to do was write about how exhausting my day had been. But I have a long stretch of time here, so I'll try and get you up to speed.

As I mentioned, classes started up last week, and with them came the realization that I had been switched into an Italian class that starts at 8.45 in the morning rather than 1 in the afternoon. Now, I've learned after two and a half years at college that I just don't function well in morning classes, so this change was initially alarming and I ended up being about ten minutes late to the first class. But things have evened out since then; I've decided that I actually like the change because it gives me the entire afternoon free on Mondays and Wednesdays. The class is a little frustrating right now, because although it is Italian 102, most people in it haven't taken 101 for several years, so we're doing simple things that I just learned last semester. But I'm sure it'll pick up, and I really love the professor — she actually helped write one of the texts we're using, so she has to be good.

I'm taking two art history courses: Masterpieces of Art, and Etruscan and Roman Art and Archaeology (that last one is a mouthful, no?). Masterpieces is not what I expected it to be, at least not yet — I thought it'd be a survey course, but it's more a study of pieces that are symbolic of a period of art. Each week for masterpieces we have one class that is on site — last week it was at the Palazzo Vecchio, this week it's at a church called Santa Croce. In addition, we have what is called "Looking Assignments," where we have to go on our own somewhere in Florence and do a short write up about whatever it is we're looking at. The professor is a little fusty and very set in his method of lecturing, which is to speak slowly and in a monotone into a microphone for an hour and a half, but I'm sticking with it because it'll cover so much of the art that saturates Florence.

Etruscan and Roman etc. is an entirely different story. It's right up my alley — I've always been extremely interested in Rome, and the professor is engaging and talks quickly. The class is small but not too small, and I just love it. We've only had one real class so far, but it was my favorite by far. This class includes a field study trip to five different Etruscan cities on a two-day trip, and then, the crowning jewel, a trip to Pompeii and other sites by Napoli for three days. I'm so excited and happy to be going to Pompeii with someone who knows what he's talking about — I've been wanting to visit Pompeii since I was about seven, and though I'm sure I'd do fine by myself, it's fantastic to have the opportunity to visit it with a professor whose specialty is basically Pompeii itself.

My final class is called Italy since 1870, a history course detailing Italy after unification in 1860 and through the world wars. It also includes a fair amount on the formation of the Sicilian mafia, which fascinates me; to that end, we have a trip at the end of April to Sicily, to see some of the sights but also to work in fields that have been confiscated from the mafia and given back to rural Italian farmers. The professor in this class is Italian and speaks with a very thick accent, but she's aware of her accent and speaks slowly enough that we can catch everything. She comes off as a sort of no-nonsense type of woman and I feel like she'll be one of those professors who is hard but who you love anyway.

Almost every night that first week we had meetings in the early evening, and then I'd head home for our dinner, which is at 8.30 every night. It's such a long time after lunch! I have to get better at eating a small snack around four, because otherwise I'm ravenous by the time 8.30 rolls around. After dinner, I was so exhausted that I could barely move from the bed, and I'd fall asleep early, only to get up early and do the whole thing over again.

That Friday, the 25th, I signed up to go to an all-school trip to Assisi, but I somehow slept through my alarm, which I've never done before — I guess it's a sign of how tiring that week really was! In any case, in lieu of going to Assisi (and don't worry; there's another trip this weekend for which I have already signed up), I went out with my roomate Liz and some of her friends. We went to an open air market and walked around for a few hours just looking at everything — there were streets and streets and streets of booths and at least a third of them were leather stores. After the open-air market, we headed over to the Piazza Santa Croce, where an annual chocolate festival was going on. The chocolate was incredibly delicious and incredibly impressive. It was also packed with people. And after that, we started heading home, only to get distracted by a flea market. I found an Italian translation of a book that I loved in English (the first Artemis Fowl book, if anyone knows it) and bought it for just one euro — I figure I might be able to stumble through it with a dictionary and work on my Italian as I go. After the flea market, it was off to a small cafe, where we shared a bottle of wine and chatted. We don't get dinner with our host family on Fridays, so Liz and I went out for sushi, of all things. Like everything else here, it was delicious.

Friday night it was early to bed, because Saturday morning I left for Venice! My tales of Venice are coming up in the next entry — stay tuned for masks, angels, and the story of how I left my purse on the ferry.

An unwasted Saturday

Florence, Italy

10.42 PM

Despite my ability to sleep far longer than any human being should sleep, I was up and moving around at nine this morning. I like this. It leaves me the whole day to do things; this is helpful because it's about ten times safer to be out and about during the day than it is during the night, not to mention the fact that taxi fares are automatically cheaper.

My rising early this morning was even more impressive because Liz and I didn't get in until two in the morning last night. We met up with some of her friends from her college and went to a bar near the Duomo, which turned out to be a mistake, in my opinion. Since it was near the Duomo — a very touristy area — everything was grossly overpriced. And since it was immediately evident that the bar was full of drunk tourists, overly-sleazy Italian men were out in full force. I just avoided them, and luckily the girls I was with didn't want their attention any more than I did. We had a good time sitting in a corner and yelling over the music, because all of us were pretty tired from the week.

Liz woke up a little bit after me, and after a breakfast of Special K and bread-toast with Nutella, we headed out to go buy books for school. But since we were walking everywhere, we took our time. We walked into the downtown area without any mishaps and were appropriately awed by the Duomo, and since it was open to the public, we went inside and spent a really long time taking pictures of everything. It is more impressive than I could ever describe, and pictures can't really express it. It's just massive, and because other buildings in Florence are tall, you'll just be lost downtown and turn a corner and oh! There's the Duomo. And then you know you're in the center of the city. It's also beautiful. I looked it up on Wikipedia today because I realized I know woefully little about it, and among other things, it is the fifth-largest cathedral in the world with a capacity of 30,000 people; the total construction took over 170 years; the dome is made of brick, was not built using any sort of scaffolding, and weighs over 27,000 tons; and one of the Medicis was assassinated on the floor inside. It's absolutely incredible.

After doing the tourist thing, we found our way to the bookstore, where I made the mistake of buying my schoolbooks. It was a mistake because we ended up just wandering around Florence for the next three hours. We visited the Palazzo Vecchio, though we didn't go inside, and walked by the Uffizi gallery, and went over the Pontevecchio. The bag holding my books tore apart somewhere after the Pontevecchio, and we were going to take a bus home, but then realized we were close enough that it was just stupid not to walk. I ended up cradling the books in my arms and having to set them down every time I wanted to take a picture (which ended up being about every block we walked), and by the time I got home I could barely lift my arms anymore.

Liz and I just relaxed at home until dinner. Dinner in Italy is a very big deal. It is almost always a sit-down meal, and, obviously, it's when I come face-to-face with the language barrier. Every night since moving in I've been able to catch the gist of what is being said by my host family, and I'm astounded at how quickly Liz and I are learning to understand them, even if we're not good enough at Italian to respond.

And the food. Gabriella has put out a multiple-course meal for us every night. We start out with pasta. Today it was penne with the best pesto sauce I've ever had, but it's been meat sauce or red sauce and it's always delicious. Tonight the pasta was followed by a platter of tomato and mozzarella slices, with sides of corn off the cob and a special cheese made near Florence; the nights before, it has been chicken of some sort. After the main course, we each have a piece of fruit, and then sweets. I'm continually amazed by how good everything is, as well as how willing I am to try things I have never liked in the past.

Tonight after dinner, Gabriella's oldest daughter came over with the man I assume is her husband. I didn't catch her name, but Liz and I sat with them in the living room while they watched a TV show. The show was really strange, but from what I could figure out, it was a sort of "war of the years" idea. They showed clips from different years and had guests representing each one and at the end people vote on which year was better. Or something like that. On this show, oddly enough, was the little boy from La vita é bella. (The same boy, I discovered, was also the child in Gladiator.) He was fourteen and gawky, and his year lost.

It's one of Liz's friend's birthday, so she left about an hour ago to go to a club for a small party. Once again, I'm exhausted, and am staying in and relaxing. I'm still okay with that. There won't be many weekend days spent lazing around here in Florence; between school field studies to other cities and my own traveling, I'll either be away or extremely tired. I really don't mind spending my days out and my nights in — especially with this current schedule of getting tired before midnight.

Speaking of traveling, some of my friends and I are going to Venice next weekend for Carnivale. I could not be more excited! There aren't any school trips to Venice, and it's one of the places I promised myself I'd visit before leaving Italy. Not to mention that Carnivale is world-famous. So far it's just five of us, and we'll be staying in a hostel. People who are more responsible than I am are organizing and booking everything, so all I have to do is make sure I pay the person who booked my reservation and get on the bus/plane/train. As you can see, there are still a few details to work out, but the hostel is booked, and we're going on Friday. Incredible.

Gabriella eccetera

I know it's just later the same day but so much has happened already. I met my family! I have to admit, the family I got was not what I expected — I feel that, like most people, I expected a kind of nuclear family, with a dad and a mom and some kids. Instead, I got a woman in her mid-sixties who lives with her two grown daughters, who are in their early thirties. The woman's name is Gabriella, and her daughters are Giuditta (Ju-DEE-tah) and Guendalina (Gwen-da-LEE-na), or Titta (Tee-tah) and Guenda. There's also a random man who was at dinner tonight; his name is Lorenzo and I think he must be the boyfriend of one of the sisters, I think Guenda.

Titta is the only one who knows more English than random words, so once again, I got to be really excited by how much Italian I can piece together to get my point across. I could say all the introductory things — where I'm from, what school I go to, how long we've been here and if I knew anyone — and then I could actually talk with relative speed about Tim and Abby and soccer. Lorenzo follows soccer, and I think his team is Inter Milan; he was so surprised to find out that I knew some Italian teams! And when I told him and the table about my siblings and how both of them won state, I got a bunch of "Davvero?!" ("Really?!"). I'm better at Italian than my roommate at this point, but we both expect to learn a lot in the next few weeks.

My apartment here is on the third or fourth floor of a huge apartment building. It was hell to lug my suitcase up the stairs, and I felt so bad for Liz (the roommate) because she had three huge suitcases. I had no idea that someone could find three suitcases worth of stuff to bring to a foreign country. And why would you want to? What a hassle it must be! But Liz is very very nice. She's not like a lot of the students here, which is a relief, because I've been unpleasantly reminded of middle school by a lot of the mannerisms. It's hard because all the Syracuse University students came with groups of friends, so the students who have no one just kind of wander around trying to meet people, with varying degrees of success. My levels have been pretty good so far, and I'm excited to start classes and meet more people with my interests.

Speaking of classes, we register tomorrow. If all goes well, I'll be taking classes with field studies in Pompeii, Herculaneum, Napoli, and Sicily, and those are just the places I can think of off the top of my head. This isn't counting the all school field trips and the museum visits that I'm sure I'll go to in the art history course I want to register for.

It's still almost surreal to think about being here, so for the most part, I don't. Everything is still incredibly hectic, and I'm sure after things calm down and we settle into a routine of classes, it'll be easier for me to look around and go out at night. Because right now I'm just completely exhausted by about ten at night, though that could be due to the jet-lag or the fact that orientation is just exhausting in general. Either way, I'm really looking forward to going out at night — and sleeping in on Saturday morning.

Buongiorno!

I'm here!

The flight from Portland to Frankfurt took over ten hours. It was absolutely insane. I don't really know how I passed the time — I read for a while, I ate the food (which wasn't so bad!) and I watched Hairspray when it was on. One of the most memorable things for me was being offered a complimentary cocktail about an hour after we took off. I know it dehydrates you, but I couldn't turn it down; it made me feel so old and worldly! So I had a tiny vodka tonic and felt sophisticated and over 21.

The flight out of Frankfurt was delayed for maybe forty five minutes, and we got into Florence at maybe two in the afternoon. And of course, they lost my one bag. I had to fill out all this paperwork and they eventually let us go. And finally, we were actually IN Florence. Driving around on a bus and getting to our hotel. I made a friend in the Frankfurt airport named Lyndse Yess who is actually from Eugene, and she and I ended up rooming together. Our room was small but clean, and it had a balcony, which very few rooms did. Unfortunately it has rained the whole time I've been here, so we couldn't really hang out on it, but still. It was nice to go out for periods at a time. After a group dinner that first night (a full dinner, with three courses and waiters that came around to serve each time), Lyndse and I both passed out. It must have been 9.00 at the latest, but both of us had been up for over 24 hours.

In the morning we woke up and had breakfast, then hopped on the bus for the orientation activities, which were basically lots and lots of meetings. Then we hopped back on the bus for the ride to the Villa Rossa, which is the main building of Syracuse University in Florence, the building where I'll have my classes. There was a lot to do yesterday, and I was really efficient — I set up my computer for wireless use, picked up a few cards (SUF students get a pass that lets us into an state-operated museum in Florence for free), bought a cell phone and made an appointment to see the doctor.

Did I mention that? I need to see a doctor because about two and a half hours before I got on my plane for Frankfurt, I stabbed a knife through my left index finger. Yes. Not into. Through. I ended up in the immediate care facility about two hours before, where they eventually gave me a band-aid and sent me on my way. I couldn't believe it happened. Never a dull moment in the life of Katharine Wills!

Last night (Wednesday), I took a cab from the Villa Rossa to our hotel with a few other girls, and it was one of the most exciting things I've ever done because I was able to talk to the cab driver in Italian. I asked where the best pasta in Florence was, and he told me the restaurant and the street it was on, and said that Florence was famous for "bistecca"  — steak. He didn't speak any English at all, but I was still able to talk to him. It was just amazing. Later, my two friends (their names are Tavia and Becky) and I went to the supermarket and bought some wine to drink after dinner, and I talked to an old Italian lady who said asked where we were from when she heard Tavia and I talking, and made a kind of "uh-oh!" face when I said "americana." Then she said were were cute friends and told me about her friends who lived in Chicago. I got to say I knew someone in Chicago as well. Talking to someone in another language is hard, but I really do think it shows you're not a boorish American if you at least try to make an effort. In any case, I was elated to know that I'm semi-conversational after one semester of Italian.

As I mentioned, Tavia, Becky and I bought a bottle of wine last night to have after dinner. We ended up each having one small glass, along with a tiny bit of bread-toast and cheese, and then zonking and going to bed. Some of the people here have been out both nights until the wee hours of the morning, but I personally feel that I'll have months to go out late, so when I'm exhausted at 10.00, I should just go to bed at 10.00. Especially while still dealing with jet lag, and especially especially when I have to get up at 7.30 the next morning.

This morning Lyndse and I got up very early, had a quick breakfast, checked out of the hotel, and then were bussed to the Villa Rossa, where I am right now. Since I was so efficient yesterday, I have a little free time when people who weren't as on top of things get to catch up. This afternoon we meet our host families, and I'm incredibly excited. I found out that they only speak Italian to us, which means my Italian will grow in leaps and bounds. I hope my family has small children or even a dog, but I don't really think I'm expecting anything. I just want to go home.

And I'm out of free time! Off to the next orientation meeting. I hope you're all well, and I miss you all! I'll post my cell phone number once I figure out what it is — all incoming texts and calls are free for me.