So This is It

So things are finally wrapping up, and its a bittersweet relief. It's amazing how this culture that was so foreign and so difficult for me has in many small ways, become part of my daily routine, integrated itself into the way I speak and dress, and affected on a larger scale-who I am and who I want to be.

This abroad experience, although beautiful, fun, adventure filled and awe inspiring has also been extremely challenging, disheartening, lonesome and frustrating beyond anything I've known. It was much harder for me, a student not from the main university, to make lasting friends with the girls and guys who have come to Florence amongst their best friends-circles that, at least with these students, are too tight to be intruded upon. Its true, I know many people here now and when we pass each other in the Villa or on the streets we converse like old friends, but I am also the outsider, always have been. These girls, however kind, would not think to call me on the weekends and in turn, it is simply too awkward to keep pushing myself upon them. Don't get me wrong, I have now a great few friends that I will miss very much when I leave, but altogether, walking down the florentine streets has been a very quiet, lonesome ordeal.

The Italian culture is a very frank, forthright, loud culture and in truth, I am entirely fed up with the sneers from women in nasty white, plastic looking winter jackets and large chanel shades, the exhasperation from shopkeepers as I try my very hardest to order exactly what I want in Italian and the COMPLETE LACK of organization- a thing which I cannot emphasize more and this is what bothers me most of all. For example, my school fought to have two students accepted for an internship with a museum in the center (I am one of those students) and upon arrival, all three days I've gone so far, I was faced with the humilation of standing aside in corners as the artists installed their pieces because they had no work for us, didn't need us, and most obviously did NOT even want us there. Also, Syracuse University in Florence has arranged that tomorrow for the student exhibition, all the studio arts, english, theater and music be exhibited at the same time--pick one subject to attend, and miss three others... I don't know how this culture gets anything done. And don't get me started on the weather. Even my host mother said to me the other morning, "The weather is mad, like Italian people!"

Let me not leave so bitterly, however. There is a true poetry to the art that is so deeply, strongly rooted within the Italian people and their buildings, gardens, streets and museums. There is history here in every square inch of the city. Even the stones of their cobbled streets are each individually documented and archived within the main library as a trace of their heritage-the stones that their ancestors once walked in the time of Michelangelo, DaVinci, Botticelli, and others. Now that the Wysteria has bloomed, the air is much sweeter and the gates of apartments are adorned with the soft purple haze of their petals. The days are getting warmer, the gelato never tasted better and I have never enjoyed walking so often and so far before in my life.

There is an unbreakable, unfathomable loyalty among the Italian people, amongst family and friends. Once you earn their respect and trust, you have a friend for life. My host family has been this way for me. They have taken me into their home, fed me, washed my clothes, shared holidays, stories, and advice with me, and without them I don't know that I could have stayed here in Italy for this semester abroad. We know something more about each other after so much time, like how Cristina is both so funny and sweet with her parents, but also a bit rebellious. How Federico eats every sweet and trace of icecream in the house when he comes back for a weekend and likes to pull on his dad's ears because he thinks they're squishy. How Laura, my host mom, doesn't like peanut butter but has a love for pancakes and New York that goes nearly as deep as her Italian roots and how Alberto, my host dad, is the most accomodating, kind and patient man to put up with all the yelling that happens in this small apartment. Alberto will also never let a conversation fail because of the language barrier and will persist for extended lengths of time to gesture and question until you can finally understand, even if all you were trying to say was, "there's a mosquito in my room" or "does the museum exhibit require a ticket?"

What a challenge and a fight to get through, but also what an enlightening, strengthening, wonderful experience this all has been. I'd say the highlights of the semester for me have been: Seeing some fantastic museums in Amsterdam, finding Jinty McGuinty's Pub in Scotland, exploring London on my own, my trip to Paris, and the beautiful day I spent in the mountains with my host family for the easter holiday-Which was like the backstage pass to Italian culture. We ate an ENORMOUS lunch of prosciutto and cheese, wine, artichoke lasagna, pasta shells filled with artichoke and brie, steak, pot roast, peas, potatos, salad, more wine, chestnut flour sweets, champagne, cookies and cakes, all at a long table by a huge, warmth exuding fireplace. My host brother's girlfriend, a professional opera singer, performed Italian arias. Nonna (the grandma) waltzed with Federico while the dog Rommy barked at their feet (I love Nonna, she pats me on the cheeks). Hot espresso was served and we walked through the mountains after a rest, admiring the beauty of the 12th century farmhouses and snow capped mountains. It was the loud, happy, bustling Italian experience I'd been waiting for all along, and never before had I felt so much a part of their family. it was a gift that I cherish, and I will remember and love those moments for the rest of my life.

KSHGKJAD SJAKNA JKAWFH SSJK Baaaah!

ELEVEN MORE DAYS TILL HOME!!!! :-D

im very happy

Pisa Pisa Pizza Mia

Today I woke up feeling kind of lonely, so I decided to text a friend and see if she wanted to go to Boboli Gardens with me, considering they're just across the Arano River and I haven't been there yet. She called me back to say that she was up at the station getting ready to catch a train to Pisa, and asked me if I wanted to come along. These were my options:

1) Stay in Florence, walk the gardens alone and do work until the sun goes down
2) Live it up, go to Pisa and see the leaning tower, eat pizza and have fun with a friend.

I chose number 2.

It was only an hour by train, and the second we got there we made two new friends outside the Pisa station as we all eyed the cartoonish map. Alex is a communications and entertainment major at a university in Georgia, and she was touring Italy with her video camera taking shots and films for her mother who, because of her job, was unable to come at the last moment. I can't believe Alex was traveling alone, but she seemed happy and fine and had a lot on her agenda. Our other friend was Dany from Madrid, a twenty seven year old engineer for a construction company who has a two week vacation that doesn't coincide with any of his family's or friend's. He was also traveling alone for the first time, and we spoke in English and Spanish which was suuuuper fun for me because after all this Italian, I've even forgotten how to say "Eat" in Spanish!!! "EAT!!" COME ON!!! The basics are slipping from me and that scares me considering I'm signed up for two of the top level Spanish courses for the fall semester...oh shit.

Anyway, the leaning tower was really cool, and yet much shorter than I anticipated. We took turns poising each other's cameras at cheesy "look at me holding up the tower" shots, and walked around the church for a bit. It was really nice to spend time with new friends, especially because we talked as casually as old friends who were actually intending to meet up at that map, and see the tower, and have a meal together. Never before has it felt so natural spending an afternoon with strangers. Mama mia look at the time... gotta write a paper. Ciao bellisime. XOXO

P.S. I'm hiking up to the church San Miniato tomorrow with a friend to see the sunrise. I'm so tired but I always say yes! aaaah

Holy Crepe

I don't think that ever in my life have I seen a city as beautiful as Paris.

Everything drips elegance, even the subways have enormous advertisements placed within yellow ceramic frames. The metro itself was so easy to use, I've never enjoyed spending so much time in the basement of a city before, if that's any way to call it. Another thing I noticed was that there were actually kids my age as well as children. In Florence there is, unfortunately, a decreasing population--all the younger generations move away and have children somewhere far from this tourist town. Being in Paris, it was so heart warming to be reminded that out there in the world there are laughing six year olds kicking soccer balls between the trees and babies rolled up like scrumptious little pastries in their pink and cream blankets, being strolled down the wide, open streets under such wide open skies.

Starting at the beginning, my class and I took the night train which was not my favorite mode of transportation. The second we stepped up into the narrow hallway of the train car we were overwhelmed and overtaken by the strongest, thickest air reeking of body odor, cigarette smoke and piss. Not surprising, we had been placed in a car full of rowdy French high school students on their way back from a trip to Florence. Feeling claustrophobic and uncomfortable as I squoze my body and my bags past the hall lined with rambunctious Parisians, I was delightfully surprised to find that my particular cabin was occupied by three of their elderly professors who were much less smelly and much more polite. A few very curious and odorous of their students came in after a length, leaning in the doorway and falling into our room to see if they could get a rise out of my very valley girl roommates while I hid behind my book- nose plugged, in the corner. Linguistic skills being tried, it wasn't long before we ran out of things to talk about so we pulled down the seats, turning them into bunks, and attempted sleep- this was a trial of its own. I spent the first twenty minutes listening to the sounds of the creaking, shuddering train and the snores of the large professor on the top bunk before remembering my iPod in my bag below me. After the third song faded I lost track of the lyrics and was out like a light... well... at least on and off like one.

9 AM we arrived at the station, jammed ourselves into the metro car, fell out of it at Poissonere and walked to our hotel. Unfortunately for us, with our hair askew and our bodies nearing the aroma of our train companions, the rooms weren't ready. We changed quickly in the restroom, a group of twenty or so girls, and left our bags to head out immediately for lunch and then our FIVE HOUR TOUR OF THE LOUVRE. As we approached the building stretching along the bank of the Seine, I was really overcome with the grandeur and beauty of this city. Everything was so... Graceful, even glorified in the most decadent but not gaudy kind of way. We could see the tip of the Eiffel Tower just over the buildings to the other side, each one of us jumping and pointing, squealing and even spinning in circles when it came into view. "There it is! There it is, can you see it?" I felt like I was a kid lost within the endless wonders of a Chucky Cheese playground, but better.

The great glass pyramid entrance to the Louvre was just within the arch of the building, reflecting the bit of sun that was fighting its way through. Our tour was a blur, and being so tired I hardly remember what I saw! The "Mona Lisa", "Venus de Milo", "Winged Victory" and many, many others passed before our eyes along with countless rooms of jewels, sculpted vases, painted artifacts and wild mythological ceiling paintings. The Louvre was endless and seemed to contain pieces from all places and times. I couldn't tell you what my favorite part was because there was simply so much art! And in case you were wondering, it's true what they say-the Mona Lisa was a little anti climactic but nonetheless I appreciated getting to see it for myself. It was everything you would expect. Hours later we shuffled out on our aching feet and went in search of a meal to fill our angry stomachs. All that's left to say about this day is that later that night I had my very first crepe and HOLY CRAP! I could eat them for the rest of my life...

Day number two we had an outing to a small city called Chartres. We had a few minutes to walk around and and as soon as the words, "ten minutes" were pronounced, every one of us scattered off to fill the shops with their windows full of candies and chocolates and the most heart breakingly scrumptious French pastries... I bought two just for myself. We returned to the center square and went inside the Cathedral, famous for claiming to own the shirt that Mary wore when she gave birth to Jesus. Thousands make the pilgrimmage to this location with its stunningly vibrant stained glass windows that let just enough light in so that looking up at them, they seem to waver and spin like a mirage over the darkness that surrounds them. It was freezing out, and the wind picked up as we stood outside to view the architecture and the sculptures. We huddled in close as Professor Hatfield reviewed the meanings and styles while those who came unprepared ran up the steps to hide in the archways where they could better escape the bite of the cold. Soon, we were released from our lecture and we all dashed off in search of a warm place and a warm meal. A few girls and I eventually found a small restaraunt with English translations of the foods, and there I had my first Croque Monsieur: a sandwhich with ham and cheese served buttered and toasted. Need I say more? Before we knew it we were back on the train, bound for Versailles.

I'm afraid that Versailles is one of those things that simply cannot be justified with words. It's gilded gates and entrance shone so brightly it seemed as though if there were a heaven, entering it would look like this. We suffered the tail end of a rainstorm which, receding far beyond the palace, highlighted its pale stone, making it appear straight out of a dramatic Renaissance painting. Walking up to the doorway with bruised clouds beyond us in one direction and blue sky in another, the experience felt incredibly surreal and if I hadn't been a tiny bit miserable and wet, I would have thought that I was dreaming. We entered the apartments and they continued, room after room after room of bright colored, laurel leaf covered wallpapers and dazzling chanderliers and draperies and portraits and beds with towering canopies. Through the tall multi-paned windows you could see the fresh, green gardens and the sparkling fountains covering an impossible expanse of land. I have never wished so longingly to be part of another time and experience first hand the life that must have filled this palace and the gorgeous, languid days that one could spend walking through those gardens, on all that land, and never, ever get bored.

We passed through the hall of mirrors, every surface shining, and made our way to the property out back. This was my favorite part. Beyond the rosy cheeked gardener who had been shielding his head from the rain with the plate of his shovel, a wide rainbow began growing at an incredible rate. All of us scrambled for our cameras and the poor gardener, caught in the crossfire of our snapshots, could do nothing but laugh. I know this sounds too much, too ideal, too fake, too story-like, but this was really my impression of Versailles. I was so in love I even took a rock from the gravel of the walkway out back. I'm such a nerd.

The train ride back to Paris was easy enough. When we arrived, my girlfriends and I were determined to see the Eiffel tower before anything else. It was late, the sun was down, the vendors out selling their mini plastic Eiffel Towers glowing pink, blue and green in their hands and beyond it all- the tower grew. With every step, the sheer hulk of its structure became more and more apparent and I couldn't take my eyes off of it. Every inch of its slowly tapering form was lit a soft, yellow-white and I could hardly believe that I was actually standing where I was. We bought tickets to the top floor and waited in the longest lines as they crammed people like cattle into the large square elevators (no stairs after sundown). The higher we went, the colder it got and the more the wind reached beneath our coats and pinched our toes. We were chilled, we were hungry, we were tired, and I was surrounded by couples all ooey gooey for eachother and I felt what I knew I probably should not. I felt excited as we reached the top, I felt overwhelmed and awed as I looked out at the sliver of a moon smiling over the sprawling lights of the city; its other landmarks spotlighted and the searchlight of the tower reaching out to graze the clouds. But on top of the breathlessness, on top of the happiness, I also felt sadness. I also felt alone. A moment like this truly reveals to you the love you have for those people who are most important in your life, and how much you wish they could be standing there with you, looking out at a city so gorgeous and bright. The moment was slipping by too quickly and I had to memorize everything I saw, I had to recognize every emotion running through me because around the corner the other girls took their angled photos, smiling coyly into the lenses of their self portraits and I stood looking out, knowing this moment was caught in too quick a current and it would be all I had until the day I visited again, if ever in my life I would. I shared this moment with myself. And now, I share it with you.

We discovered few open restaurants once we found ourselves back in our hotel's district. We settled on a loud bar, and found ourselves mesmerized in our exhausted daze by the scandalous music videos on the television over the counter. The meal was a blur. After what felt like an enternity we stood, myself being reminded of my wet socks, and with half closed eyes I followed the girls back and don't even remember brushing my teeth before falling into bed.

I know this far I've written a novel, but I promise this is the last part of this particular journey. Its the last day, and Professor Hatfield leads us like a trail of ducklings to the Musee d'Orsay, my favorite museum of my abroad experience so far. A remodeled train station, it contained all of the great impressionists that I love, including VanGogh, Monet, Degas, Renoir, Seurat, Cezanne, Cassatt, Manet and more. There is not a chance that I could pick a favorite. I could have spent hours in front of each painting, getting to know it, falling into it, but sadly it was not to be. After what seemed like a few mintues it was time to leave and I could not have been more disappointed or desperate to stay. It sealed the deal for me- if only to visit this museum, I MUST come back to Paris. We were off again behind the skinny, gray haired man and his worn leather shoulder bag, and bought tickets to gain entrance to the Monet museum. Giant, modestly framed canvases decorated the walls, but they did far more than merely decorate, they transported. The lilies, the colors, the gesture... looking into his paintings I swear you could hear the sounds of the pond and feel the stippled light as if you were sitting underneath the willow where he sat. I think only the rough, unrefined borders of his paintings where the bare canvas came through, reminded me that this was not my world, that this was only paint and I was was standing before a framed vision. Again, the time stole away from us and we made our way back for lunch. I need to find a recipe for tomato and marscapone soup, because I DEVOURED it at the organic cafe we had eaten at on the first day. We left, I bought my final crepe avec nutella, managed the metro all on my own to get back to the hotel (I had run out of tickets...oops, too many sites) and met up with my classmates to board the train bound for dear Firenze. This time, I took a dramamine and woke only once.

Now, there are 27 days left until I return home. All this travel has shown me more than I could ever have dreamed of and I feel adjusted finally. I feel so appreciative. Spring is finally here and there are certain spots in this tight packed city where I slow my pace to catch the sweet earthiness of the gardens that is so very rare. The man who stands in the loggia of the church in the piazza S.S Annunciata, with his long charcoal gray hair and matching beard, bellows at the passing locals and tourists and sometimes at nothing in particular. He startles them, they turn, they laugh, they stare. I however, have been here long enough. I have seen him quiet, munching on a kebab at the Mediterranean restaraunt and watching the soccer match on the TV over the refreshments. What must this lonely man think all day? He speaks to certain folks, easily and familiarly now and again, and I think that if I had only so many to talk to over all this time within these claustrophobic streets, I would be yelling too. Now I look around me and the loneliness means nothing anymore. I am friends with my host family who treats me so well. I have people to call if I feel I need to get out for a gelato or piece of pizza. I look at the hills on the horizon, over the streets and think, "Soon I'll be seeing the cobblestone and the canopy of trees over my hometown streets". I do not take this for granted. I have learned so very much. I am ready now to leave, and I know it will be a bittersweet goodbye.

Wow, Look at the Time

I guess its always highs and lows for me, and it didn't help that today the rain and cold came back to visit. I think even if you had all the wonders of the world in front of you, isn't it surprising, that you could find yourself instead, wishing for the wonders of a living room carpet, two cozy dogs, hot chocolate made with hershey's syrup, and the people you love. I'm off to Paris on Thursday for a class trip, its amazing and almost unfathomable, incomprehensible even, how many places I've been lucky enough to see. One more month to go.

Primavera

My God!!! Has ever a girl been so lucky? Has ever a girl been so blessed? I came back from the most amazing spring break to find that Florence has warmed and bloomed in my absence! I'm wearing sandals for the first time today (although many Italians are dressed like its snowing still) and I am on top of the blue sky world! I think my cheeks are sunburned and its AMAZING!!! Now I'm going to give you the run throught of the spring break that changed my life...

Amsterdam: Three days in in this gorgeous city, which I discovered was the Venice of northern Europe. There are countless canals teeming with swans, cranes, ducks and strange species of birds I have never seen before. There are colorful houseboats and rowboats and tourboats and all kinds of boats, while I myself stayed on a house boat not far from the center of this gem of a city where the people there were so kind and so incredibly beautiful. Everyone was dressed as if returning from a magazine photo shoot, and their faces, their clear eyes, their fair hair and statuesque physiques, man oh man they can make a short, English speaking, travel clothes wearing, girl of diluted European blood feel-shall we say-out of place? Every building and home along the crowded streets looked like a dollhouse-not too lavish, not too bare, neatly organized, incredibly charming. There were tall open windows and blocky, but not burdened architecture that gave the whole of the city a feeling of cohesiveness and beauty.

Also, I have, unfortunately, been geographically ignorant and didn't have a clue where Amsterdam was (its in Holland, they speak Dutch, and use the Euro. If you knew this you were much smarter than me). There were clogs everywhere! And illegal substances that were here made legalized... lots of "coffee shops" exuding certain smells, and no, I did NOT get sucked in! The whole place was overwhelmed with bicycles of all colors carrying all sorts of strange bins on front or in the back for carting personal items or small children. There was even a lane in the street just for bikes and it was always full of traffic. I almost got hit several times (its not easy to get used to!) It was such a weird experience for me in Amsterdam. The second we got there, a man dressed in a banana suit came running at us and beat us over the head with an inflatable penis as his friends video taped him and the stunned reactions of his victims. I laughed so hard I forgot to take a photo. Each day we walked miles, and found ourselves in museums exhibiting artists such as Avedon, Rembrandt, Vermeer, and Van Gogh. The Van Gogh museum was showing a "Colors of the Night" exhibit displaying some of the most inspiring work I've seen in my lifetime. I was, to my surprise, drawn to his paintings such as "Starry night over the Rhone", "Portrait of a poet", "Wheatfield under Thunderclouds" and "The Potato Eaters" as opposed to his most famous "Starry Night" which was much larger, and had more muted colors than are advertised in any photo, pamphlet, or textbook I have ever seen. I was in an artist's heaven and stood in front of "Wheatfield" for maybe twenty minutes, falling into the electricity of the colors, the infinite directions of the brushstrokes, the movement, the suggestion of wind and rain to come and of a depth in space that seemed impossible for the simplicity of the composition. I have so much respect for this man who could take the mundane and make it somehow electrified and alive.

The day we saw the Van Gogh museum was our last day, and that night we walked through the red light district just to say we did. Oh my god I've been corrupted. I refuse elaborate on the things I saw, and will only say that inside I was cringing for those girls standing in red lit windows, staring at the passing crowd with such intensity as if to cast a line and reel someone in. I'm sure they do, I wonder if they wish they didn't.

On another note, the beer was phenomenal. The Heinekin brewery held tours (we weren't going to pay an arm or leg to experience what we could in the bar), and we also tried a few other ales from Belgium and the Netherlands that were so light and crisp and packed a mouthful of flavor. Yuuuum. During this time I'd been with a group of five, and the last day I split off to join my eccentric friend Ethan on further adventurings...

Scotland: Around 6 P.M. Ethan and I got on board the flight to Scotland. I could not describe the excitement bubbling up inside me...which soon turned into the jaw dropped, nose plugged crestfallen disgust upon our arrival at our paper mache scottish castle hostel. EEEW. Oil stains on the sheets, I could not sleep at night because of the smell which I would describe as a "Scottish warriors foot". No matter, it was late, I was exhausted, and the next day I met some new friends who were Brown graduates touring Europe. Together, we explored Edinbugh castle which was right around the corner. There, we saw the "Scottish Honours": A sword, scepter, crown, wand, sword belt, and the STONE OF DESTINY!! (did you hear that echo?) The stone of Destiny is a giant square rock which each successive king of Scotland would sit on during their coronation. Once stolen by the British and returned decades and decades later after a tearfelt plea to the Queen. I also saw the prisons there, which had grafitti from the 1700's. One image was a boat carved into the door planks by an American that had been captured at sea. Flying from the boat's mast was an early version of the American flag...woah.

Later that day we entered a bag pipe shop to learn a bit about it... dont remember much... and then climbed a gigantic craggy hill called "Arthur's seat". It was a gorgeous day and the climb was so refreshing. At this point Ethan, who wasn't fond of my new friends as he is very particular about his company, trudged ahead without a word and we didn't see him again until we reached the very top, at which point he again, trecked off in another direction (no offense to Ethan, but I didn't mind. He was starting to drive me insane. He was so indecisive and shifty and irresponsible with his things over the  course of this trip so I often let him do his own thing. Don't worry mom and dad, I was not afraid for my well being, I did a really good job taking care of myself I promise!). Anyway, the view from the top was increcible, I saw the sun set at the exact same time that the moon rose over the ocean and bordering hills, giving either side of the sky a golden and a navy-violet hue as the sun sank low and the moon--a perfect silver dollar--pushed slowly out from behind the clouds. On the way down, we found a stone jutting out of the crag (only two feet off the ground momma...) which we christened our own stone of destiny, and each took a photo standing on the precipice of Edinburgh.

The next day was my long awaited trip to Glasgow where my darling Sammie Francis studied! I was so excited I could barely contain myself. We hopped aboard a train and were there in about an hour and a half. When we got there we were in Glasgow's center. It was raining and the downtown area was not too exciting. I asked a station employee how to get to West End and I swear, that man could NOT have been speaking English! The accent in Glasgow was my absolute favorite--sometimes impossible to understand, but so thick and rich and rolling and rugged and beautiful. Politely nodding (though I had no idea) I followed in the direction he pointed and after making about three circles around the city center we eventually stopped, dismayed, in a pub called the Admiral. There, we ate burgers with brown sauce...BROWN SAUCE? Don't ask, I don't know. And I asked the bartender if he could direct me to Sammie's pub, Jinty McGuinty's. Just my luck, he knew! He drew a small map which I've saved and we followed it down a few blocks, a couple stops on the underground, out the door and around the corner to stumble upon the one and only Jinty's. My face was killing me from smiling so big and I couldn't help myself, I had to jump!! The locals probably thought I was a psycho but it felt so great to be so close to something so special to my best friend. It was like coming home.

We walked around a bit before going in because we were so full to begin with, and we came across some amazing cathedrals and shops of all kinds. The coolest of them all was the University of Glasgow. It was a collosal structure with highly decorative, gothic architecture and looked straight out of Harry Potter. We walked around and eventually came to the chapel which I was compelled to enter. Inside, to my pleasant surprise, it was exactly like the chapel back at Bowdoin. Long, with side pews, stained glass, and a piano at the end. The only difference: This piano was unlocked. I sat and I played and I sang and no one came in, no one protested, and I let every notion of where or who I was slip away so that I was just one happy girl with every worry erased, at least for the moment. I left feeling cleansed and we made our way back to Jinty McGuinty's where I had my first Guinness in honor of Sammie. This cold, dark, coffee bitter, creamy smooth delight capped by a foam equally as smooth was quite possibly the most delicious thing I've tasted. My oh my. It was actually really hard for me to leave that bar, and I won't lie, I clutched that table hard before I left because for a moment I was choked up. It felt like I was leaving home again, leaving comfort, leaving Sammie. At least I took tons of photos and I will never forget how wonderful it felt to sit in that bar, knowing my eyes were resting on all these things that Sammie had seen and touched. We got back into Edinburgh late at night and found an Indian food restaurant, which I tried for the first time in my life. So many flavors! It was so delicious and spicy and nutty and good, and that night I would have slept well had I not spent the entirety of it in the downstairs lounge avoiding my bedroom, and chatting with my new made friends before my departure for England. They taught me how to play Backgammon!

Ambleside: It was exactly what you would imagine! Rolling hills, fields speckled with the forms of distand sheep and horses within low stone walls stretching for miles. There were high, fast rolling clouds in gray and yellow and baby blue and moments of sun on endless green. Welcome to the real English countryside. Once we got off the train, Ethan and I took a double decker bus into town and went in search of food. We didn't find much but we did go in a cafe where I purchased a slice of chocolate cake and a glass of hot cocoa with the works: marshmallow, whipped cream and flakes and I happily sipped the chocolatey concoction while a Beetles soundtrack played in the background. Ethan eyed my cake for the longest time without blinking, after he had greedily devoured his Indian food leftovers, but I ignored his lack of manners (can you tell I'm pretty fed up at this point?) Leaving the cafe we went back up the street and walked up a long hill past quaint English cottages whose garden's infused the moisture heavy air with the scent of basil. We found the hostel very easily and it was like a dream. Stone walls, small porch, cozy lounge with a gas fire and an old Melodica upright piano, a tv, and my god... Finally clean, crisp, wonderfully fresh linens. We put our bags down on our bunks  and I ran downstairs to take pictures of the lounge because with its floral patterned arm chairs it was just too good to be true. I was caught in the act. A thirty five year old physical therapist from Yorkshire with a short grey buzz cut and worn down flip flops entered the room and looked at me curiously, so of course I had to explain the difference between here and the hostel I'd just left! We struck up conversation, Ethan soon entered, and we became friends. Turns out he works for the most famous rugby teams in England and vacations alone in the countryside to go rock climbing and enjoy a bit of quiet. After a while he told us he was heading into a nearby town called Rydall to have a bite to eat at the Badger Lodge and he invited us to come alone. Happy to have something to do we accepted and made the ten minute drive to the old, authentic English pub and enjoyed chips with our meals! I love how they call fries, "chips" it just sounds so cute. Also, as it turns out, its called Badger lodge after the gigantic Badgers that emerge from the night and frequent the yard of the pub to feast upon its scraps. It was an amazing sight because they were some of the strangest animals I've ever seen with short stubby legs on their squat but heavy gray bodies with huge black heads that had two lightning like stripes down the front. Very interesting. When we got back into town we went to another pub down the street where the therapist and I ordered a glass of port to go with our glass of Guinness. Here's a tip:

1 glass draft Guinness - one large sip + one small glass of port = sweet, sweet Guinness delight. Although I'm still partial to its pure state.

Ethan, highly effected by the alcohol content, went on a forty five minute talking marathon with not one word from either of his companions, which I'm sure was therapeutic for him, however our English guest had to interrupt at a point on my behalf because I was literally falling asleep on the table.

The next day we had to catch a late train and I was so comfortable in that lounge with the tv and soft pillows that I didn't budge. Ethan walked out an onward into the rain and fog but I was quite content with my decision. I lazed and wrote in my journal, and maybe a half hour in an alarm sounded! I was the only one left in this hostel and I was terrified that maybe I had set of a motion detector or someone had broken in. I peeked out in the hallway and the alarm was ear piercing. My heart was racing and I froze. I just didn't know what to do! Two minutes in and the old man who owns the place violently opens the door which nearly took a chunk out of my face and starts yelling, "It's a fire alarm! It's a fire alarm! Get out! Get out, get out!" Completely disoriented I grab my coat from the sofa and he rages, "LEAVE EVERYTHING AND GET OUT!" I run out the front door into the pouring rain and turn around just as he shuts the front door and stands in the shelter of the doorway. He shuffles and sputters, "Well! That was a fire alarm test and I am incredibly annoyed that after TWO MINUTES I still find you in there. Did my wife not explain to you when you checked in what a fire alarm sounds like? Now I have to mark it as a FAILED TEST and it is VERY annoying!" Shocked and insulted I followed him back inside babbling about how I thought it was a robbery and how the alarm sounds different than the ones I'm used to and he continued to condescend to me, humiliating me. I apologized, "I'm sorry to be a disappointment"and walked into the lounge where I sat stunned for a good ten minutes and then began to cry. I couldn't stop! I had been so shaken by the scare and so shocked and offended by his rudeness that I just broke down. He made a half apology later which prevented me from giving him a passive aggressive note I'd written to make him aware of how much of a prick he had just been, pulling a stunt like that on a lone girl in a foreign country, and I left more than ready to leave that place behind. Unfortunately, I also left my umbrella and toothpaste. Oh well.

London: The very second I got off the train I understood why this was Laine, my cousin's city. It was so young and classy and stylish and fun! What a beautiful place. Ethan and I had arranged to stay with his cousin Rohan for the next two nights to save money, so Rohan was the one who came to pick us up. We rode the tube a couple stops and arrived right next to the Thames river. Walking down the riverside at night, with all the people out and all the buildings lit so brightly and Tower Bridge like a blue and gold masterpiece rising out of the darkness, I thought I was walking in a dream. When we got to Rohan's place I was yet again surprised by my housing, seeing as Rohan lives in a dorm room no bigger than a closet, had another guest also sleeping on the floor, and Ethan and I were to fit in there as well on small dorm couch mattresses laid out in the remaining space. At that point I didn't care how comfortable it was, I just wanted to sleep, but again, the smell of a boy's room was a little hard to overcome. 

The next day Ethan and I grabbed a quick bagel breakfast at a teahouse around the corner where he told me he had been planning to leave for the day and meet up with a friend just outside London. I had noooo qualms about that so off he went and off I went in another direction, bouncing happily down the street feeling in charge of my own destiny! The first sign I saw was for Shakespeare's Globe Theater so I followed it down and down until there it stood before me! I bought a ticket and went on the tour. Forty five minutes after that I was off again in search of Big Ben and along the way found a ridiculously cool skate park with bright graffiti and gravity defying skaters so I took maybe one hundred photos! After that I found Big Ben (which is actually the name of the bell and not the tower, made by the same company-the White Chapel Foundry-that made our very own Liberty bell). It was so tall, and so beautiful, and I was so excited to have found it all on my own! Next stop was Trafalgar Square where there was a huuuge concert celebrating the Kurdish new year. After that I had my photo taken with some of those stationary guards. Actually, after a nice woman had snapped a photo of me and one of these poor guys I looked up at him and said "Thank you! If I could bring you a snack I would!" He kind of laughed through his nose and the corners of his mouth went up... SUCCESS!! haha. On the way out I shouted "Thanks mate!" and he winked!!! Hee hee hee. Fun times. It was late in the evening by the time I got back, Ethan was a half hour late in meeting me, but he had gotten lost, and lets face it, so did I earlier so I couldn't really blame him. We got our last hearty meal at a nearby pub and our last Guinness and then it was off to bed. Early the next day we took a train to the airport and had an uneventful flight over the alps and back to good ol Florence. 

I am so thankful I was able to experience such wonderful things in such amazing places. It even  made me appreciate Florence so much more, being able to walk around without a  map and feeling sure of where to find food and a warm cozy bed. And now the weather here is beautiful and I feel like I've caught spring fever. I've been walking around drinking in the sun and feeling so peaceful and lazy. Its amazing. I feel so confident now after making my way around! And so very, very fortunate. I will absolutely remember these times for the rest of my life. Love you.

SPRING BREAK!!!!

Tomorrow until the 15th ill be in Amsterdam, Scotland, then England!! WOOO!! I'll have so much to tell you when I get back...get ready. <3

I Don't Mean to be Counting the Days but...

Well... Today its raining, back to normal. Dad was really lucky he came on the one week of stunning weather. And the truth is now that its raining again, I don't mind. I maybe even missed it a little because in the morning when you hear that rain sound, and you're so warm and just waking, its like..a feeling. A really great, dim light, shushing rain lullaby but in the morning kind of feeling. And I realize just how far I've come since my first few weeks here... I can now successfully carry conversation in Italian, walk the streets of Florence without my ratty old map, I know where certain caffe's and shops are and their hours, and I've discovered my favorite places for tiramisu. It's a blessing. It really is. I was so stubborn and filled with anxiety and fought with everything I could to reject learning Italian and accepting this culture because I was pissed I was put somewhere without my best friends, my wonderful family, my sofa and collection of books and dvds. But I've definitely learned something about adjusting and becoming more open to things even when its another culture that doesn't quite do things your way. (You won't believe me but I've eaten chicken liver pate which is a Tuscan delicacy, and also has anchovie ground up in it, and it was delicious.)

Needless to say, I miss you. And I miss it all...still. It's midterms and spring break starts Saturday. I should be looking forward to this vacation and don't get me wrong, I am! I'm going to be three days each in Amsterdam, Scotland and England, trying new foods and hearing new accents. I'll be seeking out new pastries and foreign beers and walking my ass off to compensate. And yet, because its the middle of my semester here abroad, I've been thinking about you. A lot. I miss your laughs, I miss your smiles, I miss your presence in the room with me, even in the same town as me. I miss our foods, I miss our comforts. Who knew I'd lament being so far from dill pickles, cookie dough, blockbuster, starbucks, asphalt streets, oak trees, mexican food and bathrooms without those weird butt cleaners... baday or whatever. hahaha. They're still stupid to me and I refuse to acknowledge them. I miss my dogs and donuts. I miss backyards and lawns and American poetry. I even miss the tv shows even though I never watch tv.

Being here has made me realize how firmly rooted I am in my identity. Maybe rooted isnt the right word because I feel like I absorb things like a sponge and take it in, I really don't have that big a grudge with change, but I've discovered that I do not like the European lifestyle and could not live here. I've discovered that I can adjust, compromise, learn from and appreciate an entirely different culture. But I've discovered how much pride and love I have for where I come from, and how truly, truly fortunate I am to have been born where I was. I've found out that I don't like to travel too much because I like being comfortable and surrounded in the niche I've created for myself, but that I don't take for granted the amazing things that occur when I'm completely outside of my comfort zone. It aint easy. But it sure is cool. All in all, I miss you. I miss all of you. Being here, I think I get it now. Its probably just being on the verge of yet another adventure into unknown places that makes me feel slightly frazzled, and makes me wish for a bit of Chicago, a piece of Maine. Thank God for my iPod. Hearing voices like Fred Astaire, John Mayer, Stevie Wonder, Alison Kraus, they take me right back there with you. It's a fantastic wonderful thing I get to experience here, but I just wanted to tell you all that you mean the world to me, and I think about you everyday. Love love love
Em

Pronto!

Ciao! So dad just left yesterday, which was sad because we had great fun and good meals, and during a visit to family friends in the beautiful, rolling, vineyard laden Italian countryside I made friends with their lovely four year old daughter Rebecca who held my hand and sat on my lap and had pretend cell phone convos with me. Yes! I totally became friends with the most adorable, disney princess loving, focaccia chowing, take my gnocci with a little cheese and oil four-year-old Italian! Speaking Italian! I think my life is changing.

Gondola Gondola Gondola???

Oh man!! Its a beeeautiful day today! I feel so lucky. My Italian class this morning got cancelled so I took a nap, ate breakfast at a little indoor patio table in the sun (breakfast consisting of a chocolate stuffed croissant and a cappuccino..yum!) and started a new book because its just that kind of day! The old one is boring me out of my mind so I'm so ready for a little good ol' storytelling in my life, and decided to be quite frank with the old book--I'm sorry old friend. We just don't match that well. I'm also not attending my site visit lecture (a) because I can go tomorrow and enjoy right now more and (b) because I've been dying to tell you about Venice!!

Oh my god... what an adventure. I feel so blessed to have such insane opportunities thrown at me. I started off by going on a class field trip to Siena on Friday which was just...beautiful. The huge open square in the morning sun was a perfect place to sit with a coffee and happily bake, with the coolness of the air oh so refreshing. We went to a couple museums and were lectured at for a bit, but my favorite part of Siena was experiencing the beauty of the city. It was the PERFECT mix of medieval Assisi and urban Florence. For lunch some friends and I got pizza (mine had hot dog pieces on it and was delicious! Can you believe it?? Hot dogs and pizza... Oh Italy), and then we bought ourselves small cups of gelato and laid flat out on the huuuge brick square in the center of town. We cat napped and chatted and I did handstands just to prove to all the smoking, sitting, standing Italians that I was a crazy American (you'll see pictures of this soon. Check facebook). And once we finished we were bussed over to San Gimignano, a very small town with a beautiful church, and there my friends Marina and Travis and I ordered glasses of white wine and sat outside of the winery in the freezing cold toasting the sweet grapes of life.

No sooner had we returned to school (about 7:15 PM) that Travis and I caught a cab and raced to the train station to make our way to Venice. We met our friends, hopped aboard, found ourselves on the mainland and all dropped fast asleep in our tiny little trailer rooms at a hostel called the "Camping Fusina". It was very cute, and in the morning...very cold. We checked out and found ourselves a ferry to Venice and before we knew it, Venice itself--its small islands of claw like dead trees, abandoned, crumbling brick, church domes glinting and water sloshing against the bright green algae at its edges like a skirt--it all emerged from out of the humid morning mist, and I fell in love. People dressed in cloaks and bright masks, in clown costumes and pirate attire strolled down the streets as if it were any other day. Some of the costumes were extraordinary: full length gowns on both men and women, with their whole faces disguised behind white, other worldly masks. There was gauze and there were veils. There were beads, sequins, fabrics of all shades and shine. There were parasols and tall staffs decorated in ribbons, skulls, rhinestones and strings. The further we walked into the city, the more we saw.

The streets were absolutely packed for Carnivale. The entire day (and towards the end it got very old) you were pushed, bumped, squashed and bustled because of the enormity of the crowds. San Marco square, despite the fact that it was crawling with tourists and spectators, was absolutely unbelievable. It was like being in a dream. All the books and all the films I've ever read or seen that had made mention of this place suddenly were realized before me. The griffon on the pillar... The gilded horses on the church... The gondolas and gondoliers in their striped shirts and red ribboned hats beckoning to excited visitors. The canals glowed and looked like postcards even to your eyes, before you even snapped a photo. As we made our way through San Marco, five Italians stood on stilts within enormous giraffe costumes. Their faces midway up the long necks that they could bend down, pretending to drink from a surprised Italian woman's cappuccino cup, nuzzle pretty women's cheeks, and kiss me as I took a picture and exclaimed "Ciao!!!" while laughing histarically. They meandered past us, through the crowds, and we were left in a persisting state of amazement at the costumes and surprises of Carnivale around us.

We walked for hours and found dance parties to join, small children in tiger and lion costumes throwing confetti (the place was COVERED in confetti!! Which, by the way, is an Italian word!) and all kinds of amazing vendors of masks, cloaks, hats, beads, glass, and candies. Eventually we got hungry and found ourselves a small dock on the Grand Canal by the Rialto where we unloaded pre-prepared nutella sandwhiches, pistaccios, oranges and wheat cookies and we had our feast. The day was really such a blur. After eating I even ran into Lydia Deutch and Christine Carletta from Bowdoin in some random square! Just by sheer fate or coincidence or whatever you want to call it. We found each other all at once, in Venice, when we came from varying points of Italy and had no idea we would run across each other here. I almost cried from laughing.

By 10 PM we were pretty exhausted and found ourselves a small restaurant where the waiter repeatedly harrassed one girl in our group by sneaking up behind her and announcing "ONE LASAGNA!" or "HERE'S YOUR SALAD!" making her jump, and making us absolutely crack up. The food was good, but for lack of sleep that weekend I felt myself getting sick. So...for the rest of the night I dawdled in back, basically sleep walking and praying for 3 AM to come around when we'd catch our train back home. Luckily, no one noticed me being too much of a zombie, so I don't feel too bad. We got back to Florence at 6:30 AM and my roommate and I slept until 2. I'm still recovering from all that travel, but let me say, it was the weekend of a lifetime.

Anyway. Dad's here! He came in last night and we went to the four seasons to get good food. We ordered wine but decided it was too stuffy for us, so they gave us a recommendation for a noisier, wonderful restaurant and gave us the wine and some little dessert treats for free!! I'm loving how Italy is teaching me to speak up when I don't like something or when I want to do something else...haha, see what we got out of it? We found the amazing little place straight down the street from dad's hotel and had a wonderful meal. I even got dad to stay up a few hours longer to see me play the open mic at BeBop (although I've decided its not my favorite venue and I don't think I'll be going there again... too many bored Italians and loud Americans who don't care about who's performing). Although! I did run into Federico 1 from my last visit which was funny, even introducing him to dad although neither of them could communicate with each other. Anyway. I slept so well last night despite the sniffles and I'm thrilled that this week is going to be gorgeous. Gonna go get some errands done so I can study for midterms later...yikes! Love you all very, very much. Sorry this is so long. Thinking of you much. xoxo Em

In Need of Song Suggestions...Fast

Oh my gosh... So... I don't have much time to write this (lab closes soon and Italian family expects me at dinner) but I wanted to tell you about my Monday. I finally got up the courage to play an open mic in Italy. My roommate who is such a wonderful girl, walked with me the ten minutes or so to BeBop, which is an Italian bar that draws mostly American sororities and frats. They have a small stage and consistently show groups playing rock, R&B and things like that. The owner of the club, who I met, is a long haired Italian man that when singing sounds EXACTLY like McJagger. Its almost scary how good he is. So, to make a long story short, I showed up, was told to come back next week when they had more room, left a little disappointed with my roomie so I played outside in the freezing Piazza for a half hour gaining some compliments and also some very confused, judgmental looks, and then met two Italian dudes (Frederico and Frederico) who, after introducing themselves, said they were going to play in BeBop (which they didn't) so I followed them back there with roomie and friend Travis in tow, was introduced to the owner who told me to stand up front by the stage, and they squoze me in last minute! I was very shy and quiet up front so I think no one expected me to be any good, but then I busted out "High & Dry", "Why Georgia" and an original and was asked to play a fourth! I WAS ON SUCH A HIGH! it was so so so so so amazing. A perfect night. It was so fun, and so satisfying, and makes me ask myself: "Why, for the love of God, did I not change my major to music?!" I'm going to do it again next Monday and this time my whole Italian class and new group of friends and a few scattered friends here and there will be coming to see it!! I'm so excited, but very nervous. Gotta learn new songs by then! GAAAAAH. im going to Venice tomorrow for Carnival, get yourselves ready for some poetic descriptions of the waterways, the masks and the fireworks. It's gonna be epic.
love you!
Em

P.S. People are now mistaking me for an Italian! What is going on!??

A Toast To You Saint Valentine

Last night, I finally decided it was time to go out (No love around? FINE! I'll have a beer!). Thus far I have not experienced any Italian nightlife because after such stomach stuffing dinners and daunting days sleep is inevitable. So, in order to prepare myself for a night of fun I slept from five until ten PM. My roommate worked on an art project on her bed next to me, meaning all the lights in the room were on. This was perfect because waking up at night with the same amount of light as you fell asleep to is much, much easier than your conciousness clinging and scraping, biting and grumbling its way through the dark whose presence does nothing but remind you that you should still be fast asleep. We got up off our lazy bums and rallied the friends to meet at the piazza infront of Santa Croce. I've mentioned this church in a previous entry because I had to go there for an Art History excursion and it was also the temporary backdrop to the festival of chocolate...


Let me take this moment to interrupt the narrative of this entry and point out that it was Valentine's Day. It was a very difficult day for lack of certain special someones and so my roommate and I decided we must attempt to satisfy our sulking little hearts by purchasing large quantities of chocolate. We searched high, we searched low. We went in grocery stores and gelateria and kebab restaurants and found not ONE box of assorted chocolates under forty plus dollars. Dejected and disappointed we made our long way home, stopping back in the supermarket to at least get some peanut m&m's. Of which I ate none. Thank goodness for Momma's, however, because I had normal m&ms in a beautiful array of Valentine's day colors which were sent to me by my one and only momma dearest, and upon our return to our room our host momma had placed a deliriously delicious, melt in your mouth, creamy and dreamy delectable, finger lickingly joyous small chocolate heart on our pillows. "Because the men do nothing!" she says, "At least the women remember this day!" She leans her head back dramatically and rolls her eyes, gesturing towards somewhere within the apartment where her husband is busy doing whatever it is he does. He does seem like a sweet heart though. And moments before eating my treat I got a wonderful phone call from my love :-)


So...Where was I? We were standing in the piazza when a kind faced Italian man and women approached our group and asked, "parle inglese?" Which I took to mean, "do you speak only English or do you know any Italian?" So I perked up with a quick "Parlo poco Italiano!" The man smiled widely and explained that tonight, at that very moment, a prayer service of a kind was being held in Santa Croce and we were cordially invited. He explained that when we would enter the church we would be given a slip of paper where we could write a prayer to Jesus, place it in a basket and retrieve a slip from another that would be Jesus' response. Why not? Could be pretty sweet to hear from the big man himself so we agreed that the pub could wait ten minutes. They shepherded us in and to our surprise, all the lights in the expansive interior were shut off. There were two rows of pews with people kneeling, folded hands against their foreheads and eyes closed in quiet conversation with their God. The only light came from the pool of small prayer candles growing beneath a small crucifix, between the white and red roses on the soft red carpet laid down on the floor. Small groups of people and nuns would approach this space, kneel, and place their prayers in the basket.


If ever a woman sung like angel it would be the middle aged italian soprano on her chair with her music stand, sitting off to the left of the pews, being accompanied by a classical guitarist. Her voice and the melody from the guitar filled the church up to the high vaulted ceiling and carried like a feather on water. The very kind man who brought us in introduced our group to a man who spoke English. He brought us to the front with our cards where we all kneeled down. He asked if he could pray for us, and then quietly recited his prayer beneath the song of the soprano. Asking that his new friends may always find where to place their feet, that they be free from fear, and never feel alone. The prayer went on, and some in our group became a little antsy, so when he finished, we thanked him and quietly shuffled out of the church entryway, filled with peace and surprise towards the unexpected, beautiful find and not sure how to break the reverential silence. Its true it was a little strange considering that we are not a very religious group of kids, and some of us weren't even catholic. But I think that we were lucky enough to find love in strangers that night, and it it filled us all.


Continuing on our merry way down the cobbled street we arrived at our intended destination. The Scottish pub! I ordered a beer and it was the most delicious thing I've tasted in a while. I was so thirsty and so pleased at finding that good beer still tasted like good beer, that I drank it like water and had a very happy time with my buddies. We ordered french fries and chicken nuggets which tasted like heaven, and the American sounding bar tender made sure we had a pitcher of oktoberfest brew on our table. Not exactly the "Italian" style kind of evening but I certainly wasn't complaining. We chatted and laughed and snacked until 2:30 when the bar closed down, and all of us, being novice's at battling the late Italian hours, scurried back home to our warm beds considering the air was cool enough still to turn our breath to steam. That night, I thought about all of the loves and all of the love in my life, and felt so blessed, and so happy. Thank you to you all, again, you make my life worthwhile.


"...non sono piu io che vivo, ma Cristo vive in me" (Gal 2,20) -Jesus' response to my prayer note.

When You Give A Girl A Flower

Hey lovelies! So...yes. Rome was fantastic, I'll never forget Ethan and his sound recording... standing there in the rain with his arm raised high with the mic, saluting the air, blessing the noise. And also how a flower vendor came up to me at the Trevi fountain, put three roses in my hand despite my intial "no! no no no" and simply said to me "good luck". He then followed a few paces behind me, approached ethan and gestured for money. When Ethan said no, and I explained that this crazy kid was not my significant other, he snatched the roses back from me and stalked off. Ah Roma. For some reason I was reminded of a tantrum throwing mouse from that book "If you give a mouse a cookie" and what popped into my head was "If you give a girl a flower..." I don't know what would follow that statement.."She'd like another?" "She'll hunt you down and clobber you if you play nasty tricks?" Haha..I really wasn't that offended, nor was I suprised.

And fortunately these last couple days in Florence have been sunny and beautiful!! It's absolutely amazing and drastic, the difference that it makes in the feel of the city and most of all my mood. The other day I crossed the river for the first time in a while to look at a beautiful church designed by Brunelleschi, and along the tiny streets I passed a wine bar with Jazz music playing, little caffe's cleaning up, sending the bell like sounds of clinking china into the streets, and the general air was quiet, and humming the way a lazy summer afternoon sounds with the neighborhood chatter and laughter fuzzy in your peripheral hearing. It was so nice! On the way back from the church I bought a gelato and stood on the bridge over the river. There were no clouds and the sky was bright blue. The mountains were snow capped far on the horizon, and the yellow and gold colored buildings were reflected softly, and upside down beneath their bases in the green and navy river water.

So...I've been obsessed with writing down things I notice here or that strike me and I was wondering why I've been suffering from this OCD. So I've been working on journaling as part of my painting project to analyze my thoughts and apply them to cool images and this is what came out of my head today:
"There are so many things I've been trying desperately to record and remember. It's gotten really bad this year in particular. I stop on bridges, oustide gelato stores, in the kitchen in the morning to write down what the sunlight looked like, how many kinds of rain there are, how the river is like a mirror to the vanity of the buildings when it's bright outside. Why? I don't know. Because I must. Whether its a need to remember or a desperate attempt to capture and conserve in words, I can't say, maybe it's both. Maybe this project is my diary turned into "art" whatever that is. Haha. I want to put song lyrics in it too. The one's that get stuck in my head from the Weepies, Switchfoot, Norah Jones, and I also want to include book quotes like, 'Teach me to sew a vine of stars', which is from a book called 'Habibi'. I read it yeeears ago and never forgot. Things like this I'm compelled to share, in the same way I guess as I'm compelled to share what I see when I stop on bridges, in kitchens and outside shops. There's always something strikes me. There's always something that sticks. It's all so fresh to me, and I wish you could see it the way I do, if only just for fun. Maybe you do. Everything becomes beautiful I think not when you forget yourself, but when you, for an instance, feel more yourself than ever."

Oh before I forget I want to tell you that the old folks and the pidgeons are so cute here. The old couples walk arm in arm down the sidewalks, the little old ladies with their long peat coats and scarves over their hair, shuffling in little old lady shoes, wearing all bright colors of rouge and lipstick and large tortoise shell sunglasses. Very stylish, these little old ladies. And the gentlemen are even more adorable in their little caps. Walking slowly and straight backed, hands clasped behind them, hats matching their coats. They stop occasionally to wipe something from the cheek of their lady or look around them with a contentedness that reads, "Nice day. I'm in no rush, I rather enjoy observing the rest of the young hurry by. I've been there... What a nice day." I also forgot to mention that the streets of Rome are lined with trees full of oranges! There were none low enough for my travel buddies to reach, because I'm sure the accessible ones are all quickly snatched. Lucky for me, I hate fruit :-D eat it fruit lovers.

I love you guys so much. Happy almost Valentine's day Jamie! And to all my lovely wonderful friends and family. You guys mean the WOOORLD to me, and you make my life so very happy and so full of love. Thinking of you. A dopo! Ti voglio tanto bene! tvtb, xoxo, <3

MWAH
em

When Trash Transcends

Hi everbody. So its been a while since I gave you some comprehendible information about how im doing and what its like here. Lets start with Rome.

Rome was absolutely amazing. It had a very open feel after coming from Florence which you can get to know in a week pretty much. Rome was totally urban, and reminded me very much of Chicago. The people there look you in the eye and everyone is so fashionable! There was so much good shopping and so many caffe's and pizzerias and I had some low class Roman pizza and spaghetti (of poorer quality than we eat in the US) but I was still so freakin excited because it was ROMAN!!! ROME ROME ROME! I loooved it! Its really interesting because there were a lot of diverse reactions. Some people were relieved to return to Florence whereas I was very reluctant. If it hadn't been for the nasty hostel I stayed in when we stayed the extra night I would have tried to prolong my stay as long as possible...maybe even transfer universities? Ok not...

There was so much history there. The Romans probably don't think anything of it when they walk around town and OH HEY! BOOM! There's the Pantheon. There's the Colloseum. There's the Vatican. We went inside all these places and more and it was so stunning. The Vatican was really cool but surprisingly not my favorite part. And I guess I've been over exposed to the God and Adam imagery (pictures with their fingers almost touching) so that when I actually saw it my reaction was just like, "Oh, okay. So that's where it is". My heart pounded more when I came across a tiny room dedicated to a couple Morandi pieces... so simple and puurty. We saw tons of cool art galleries and because I'm in a painting class they took us in some contemporary art museums as well where I saw things ranging from collosal marble scultpures of a darth vader looking man named "justice" to whispy van gogh like paintings of warm melting colors depicting an old German myth. (I illegally snapped a photo of these...don't tell). By the way I PROMISE I will put up some pictures soon, and probably on facebook because its easy to upload there.

The next night some friends and I went out to dinner downt the street from the grody hostel (which was called yellow and didnt have half the cheer as the color... dont get me started on the smell). We went to a pizzeria where our waiter's name was, yes, you guessed it, Guiseppe!! We had pasta and gelato and we toasted with heinekin, haha. We had such a fun dinner and probably bothered the other Italians in the restaurant because we were laughing so loud. Then the girls went out pub crawling and my friend Ethan and I, being crazy artists, took our journals, sound recorders, and cameras out into the Roman night to explore and capture everything.

We walked for HOOOOURRS and covered the entire city. We saw so many things, fountains with statues above them, lit light blue and green from the lamps under the water. We passed guards with machine guns on the streets, and saw the changing of the guard the next day which was crazy. That night we walked to the Trevi fountain and got gelato, walked past the presidential palace, and down the steps to the Tibur river. It was stunningly beautiful down there but not in the way you would expect. It was raining and the trees lining the cobbled walkway were absolutely littered with strips of trash and plastic bags. In the strange light coming from the lit up buildings, bouncing of the rushing water, the trees looked instead like they had tinsel hanging from the branches, and all the puddles reflected the city lights. It was so magical. I couldn't stop taking photos, and suddenly everything became beautiful to me: The moss growing out of the wall in tufts with dramatic shadows falling beside them, the green glass bottle left on a stone slab glinting with raindrops and light, the river itself rushing and curving like air over the surface of a racing car. Because Ethan was recording all the sounds (raindrops in puddles, on umbrellas, the rushing river, the tran over the bridge...) and because we kept stopping to observe and take photos, and because I paused every few feet to write about what I was seeing and experiencing, the moment was so intensely present for me. Every sensation was so pointed and so sharp and I felt like everything around me was bursting with energy, crying to be noticed, and more beautiful than a DaVinci Portrait....even the garbage on the trees and the wet, grafittied undersides of the bridges, and the single tiny patch of grass between the cobbles as we walked. ah..i have to go but ill end this post with a few more things asap. love you all.
em

So Much to Tell You...So Little Energy

I just got back from Rome. It was AMAZING. But I'm exhausted and I smell like a wet horse. Time to shower and sleep. I'll tell you all about it soon :-)

Temperaments of Rain

Indulge me...my blog is turning into a creative writing project. For a quick update- I had a great day, I got a candy package!!! THANK YOUUUU!!! Happy Valentines! LOOOOVE! And every little thing that could go right did. Finally. I'm off to Rome tomorrow and I'll be there till Sunday! Woo! And also. Pidgeons have emerald collars and dear old Elia who run's Elia's cafe at school is adorable and I look forward to my caffe latte always. She and her husband call me "carina. bella." (as they do to everyone), and it makes me so happy! The end.

  

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From my bed this morning I could hear the rain. The interesting part is that I knew by its sound just what kind of rain it was- you hear it being sloshed, shushed and splashed aside by passing wheels and you can picture it- parted by the dirty treads, breaching onto the curbs and settling in stagnant pools of mud, oil, city scrub and pancaked layers of gum. This type of rain makes you feel chilled and clammy and in fact, like a clam, I find myself walling up and refusing to open my door. Lucky for me, the clouds broke in the late afternoon to let the sun in, and it turned out to be a wonderful day.

I once heard a line from a movie that profoundly stated, "God is in the rain". From then on I would occasionally feel compelled to sing, hum or pray aloud to these droplets of God, although usually in whispers. A group of scientists actually discovered that by speaking aloud to a freezing drop of water, the form or pattern that the snowflake would take on depended on the word it "heard". Ugly, brute and jagged patterns would form for those flakes that heard, "hate", "sorrow", or "war". On the other hand, the snowflakes that heard "love", "beauty" or "friendship" were inclined to create beautiful, symmetrical and elaborate patterns. Having been inspired by this discovery, I like to keep my whispers always cheerful and positive with the hope that the rest of the world (being touched by this listening rain) will share in the good wishes that were released among them. Everyone could use a little love on a gray day.

I'm one to believe that there are many varying temperaments of rain. There's four-year-old tantrum rain, surprise-you-without-your-umbrella rain. There's salty rain and painful rain, gentle kissing rain and seems-to-be-coming-from-the-ground-up rain. It can be needed, it can tease. It can love you dearly or it can tear you apart. This is the start of my analysis-a science project of my own where I will categorize and name all types of rain so someday they can put them in text books where kids can learn about their properties-their sounds, textures, their effects, the kinds of clouds they came from and how these things relate, their likes, their dislikes, their colors and their vices... This is just a taste.

First, there's angry, pounding rain (element name: APR). APR beats down on your head and shoulders, floods views from window panes and falls in diagonal gusts as if to say "I am an emperor of clouds and of air. You will compromise for me today"...or however long this rain may reign.

There is also the light, whispy kind (LWR) . An incredibly shy kind of rain that you barely feel and only notice as it gathers in group form out of fear. This is fog (FOG). A droplet's own personal "school of fish" so to speak. "Strength in numbers" this skittish rain believes. Usually this kind doesn't really want to bother you, so you may only notice it after walking a block or so and discovering that it's drops have accumulated and are now falling from your cheekbones like tears and driping down your temples like persperation.

Third, there is the kind of rain that the gardener prays for-to quench the ground and wet the tongue's of flowers. This rain releases earth smells and if you stand quitely amidst it with your face to the sky and your mouth open, you too might find yourself feeling quenched, baptized, fresh, alive.

And then there's dead rain, (DR, also known as RIP. You may see RIP on tombstones- a tribute to the ancient greek saying, "rain into pergatory" which was recited at the passing of a loved one. Pergatory, at the time, was a word for the afterworld with no negative connotations). Some people welcome this mirror to their emotions and find it cathartic to a gray disposition. To others, it is heart wrenching. This kind of rain pours down on funereal scenes like a dense shroud. It chills the air drastically and permeates your tightest knit sweaters. It will drench your so called "rain jacket" and with its icy fingers reach deep into your body despite your skin-like a phantom's palm passes through a brick wall. The chill of dead rain is absorbed by your bones where it will settle. You will not warm for hours.

And what about sun showers? Personally this may be my favorite kind of rain. This kind is gentle, sudden and refreshing. The sun still shines yellow and warm and you might not even see the cloud that housed this glittering spray. This rain likes to tickle your skin and play on eyelashes. If rain could laugh, sun showers would give off bubbly little bursts as it hit the ground and conjured rainbows out of nowhere. As soon as it arrives, it is gone.

Obviously there are countless kinds of rain and so far we've uncovered only a few. Contributions to this study are welcome. Please send any discoveries or data to

Emily Schonberg,
c/o Syracuse University in Florence,
Piazza Savonarola, 15
50132, Firenze
Italia

Grazie mille.

The End of the Light Streak

Most of my expierences in Italy so far have been based on one factor and one factor only: Light.

The day we got here it was gray, and the following weeks remained as lifeless without sunlight in the city. The moment the clouds broke, was the moment the city woke in me for the first time. It was the first moment I felt alive and present in this environment instead of brooding somewhere in my thoughts. In art history we discuss the term: Chiaroscuro-the effect of shading and the portrayal of an object enhanced or more fully realized by the presence of shadow and light. In painting, we practice this technique and seek out postcards to replicate that best describe this effect. And in daily life, with its presence, the dull mustard yellows and the grimy grays suddenly become cool fields of speckled stone and cheering golden walls along the walkways. For four days now, the sky was bare and blue and the sun lit the streets. Today, the rain returned.

Here is a bit of a journal entry I wrote yesterday-
"Today was a beautiful day. I saw sunlight leak through the shutter slats. I saw it glaze the Duomo and the smiling face of Santa Croce. I saw the yellow afternoon light cake the city walls and I saw the shadows climb them until they put the halos of the statues to sleep. I saw, from the corner cafe, the streets fill with night the way water fills a tank. I saw the white cool light of hallogin bulbs kiss the bodies of bottled water and rim a cup with its dried hot chocolate clinging to its sides like fresco paint on a chapel wall-A secco, they call it. The mixture of yellow and white, hot and cool pours from shop windows and glass plated doorways, painting the walkways with inverse shadows of themselves. Today the city soaked in a light that pooled in its corners and tapped on its doors and bade me come outside to see what a spectacle it could perform. Bravo Firenze, bravo."

Poetic and embarrassing I know...but there you go.

This Is Where St. Francis Had His First Big Mac

So today I woke up at 7:30 and rushed over to the piazza by our house to hop on the bus headed to Assisi (pronounced Ah-sieze-ee so I learned, not A-sissy). I slept most of the way, a 2 1/2 hour drive and when we got there, a lady announced over the bus speaker that we shouldn't get too excited about the McDonalds, and I responded more loudly than I intended "Why?!" I got laughed at... in a good way I hope. Haha. She followed with "...because Assisi just allowed it after a long petition against it. Unless its been here since St. Francis' time, they don't want establishments like McDonalds"

When we got off the bus we had a boring lecture of the frescoes in the church we visited. It was so cold because of all the marble it was like standing on an icerink. The most fantastic part, however, was seeing St. Francis' crypt in the basement. I made an offering to the church and put a candle in the basket devoted to him. You don't light them...you just stack them there...which I don't understand, but still! I said a prayer for Felicia Kaplan (I think that's how you spell her name?) and again for all of you. This truly is turning out to be a pilgrimmage for me. Very exciting.

After the lectures, some friends and I got lost walking around town. It was absolutely beautiful. The air is clear and light at the higher altitude and the scenery is just a great expanse of medieval buildings and lanes backed by mountains. It was a lovely day which helped too. The breeze was so cool and refreshing. I really don't think I can describe Assisi so you'll have to wait for the photos! I'll upload them this coming week when I have access to the photo lab. Anyway, we found a restaurant for lunch where we had a delicious meal of ravioli and cannoli and I had a glass of local wine which was so yum but SO STRONG! I was definitely tipsy and bouncing up the hills taking photos and laughing at stupid things like a long set of stairs-which we climbed to the top of the hill and found the fort Rocca Magiore. BEAUTIFUL! STUNNING VIEW! I felt like I was in the Sound of Music or something.

Reflecting on this trip, this was the first time I truly felt present in Italy. Assisi is in Umbria, and on the way there, the countryside blew me away. So green and hilly with groves and orchards and sheep and horses and creeks and mountains... Having my first glass of wine with my meal helped also. "Umbria" I kept thinking... "Yep. I'm really in Italy now"

At Least I'm Excercising...Well...I Walk Everywhere?

I was mistaken in a previous post. The best gelato in the city is shared between Bandiani and Vivoli. I'm going to both in an hour. And tonight, an Irish pub to have a beer and play guitar hero, because its guitar hero thursday...obviously. Holla!

Maybe M&M's Can Coexist with Cioccolata

Raaah. So. I've been complaining a lot lately. And mainly to Yaymie Nadyuuh (sorry love). I've been complaining that the weather is depressing (it is) that the culture is inaccessible (it is, but getting better) and that I don't feel like myself here. That I just don't like it, and the end. But I'm fighting to stay optimistic because I've still only been here a short time, and today was the first day that I woke up with sunlight outside. FINALLY!! A FULL DAY OF SUN!!! Its supposed to rain tomorrow obviously, but its amazing how much a day of light can make you feel like you just drank in the warmest cheeriest drink when you've been thirsting for it for so long.

The highlights of my day today were-walking down little side streets and finding cool shops and gelateria and flower stands all on my own and even directing an Italian couple to the Duomo. Who? Yes me. It was a Christopher Columbus kind of feeling all day, like AHA! So THATS what's there! My best discovery may have been the McDonalds. My first bite of the french fries and burger were so astounding and overwhelmed me with so much joy and excitement that I started laughing while walking down the street and thus received many confused glances from fellow pedestrians. PURE SALTY GREASY GOODNESS. McDonalds tastes the same in foreign countries...sigh...

So. Before that I ate a cone of (and people who know me will be surprised that I ate such a thing) pistachio and stracciatella gelato from a gelateria I'd been looking for since I saw it my second day here (Another thing you may be surprised to hear is that I finish everything on my plate at dinner! Most of the time). And later in the day as I browsed the streets I saw a waffle vender. When I asked how much one would cost, she asked "one or two?" and proceeded to iron out two small waffle squares. Seeing as there was no stopping her, I said one. And what I received were two waffles sandwiching a pile of whipped cream and melted chocolate. Oh dear God it was a heavenly mess. It was definitely over priced but when Florence hands you sweet goodness you don't say no. Especially since this last Sunday was the last day of the chocolate festival where my roommate and I spent the day and from breakfast until bed ate solely chocolate. Vendors from all the stores around Florence set up their tables with their finest displays. I saw chocolate tools, chocolate chickens, chocolate sausage and linguini, chocolate snow white and the seven dwarves, eggs, mice and cheese all made of chocolate. The best thing I sampled was the cioccolata calda-hot chocolate in a small cup that was pure melted chocolatey goodness. Come visit Florence, go straight to a chocolate shop, purchase this, enjoy it as long as possible, and go home to live the rest of your life in happiness.

So these are great memories already and I'm thankful. To be honest, I wake up sad most days because I miss my close friends so much, but throughout the day there are pieces of good and sun and peace and I have to gather them to make a whole. Slowly the pieces are getting bigger and slowly I'm getting used to things here. I guess I've been rushing and hoping that I'd be more settled but it's still too soon. This place isn't for me, but with more time I can learn to appreciate the differences, understand the European lifestyle more, and therefore feel less like the one blue m&m in a box of crafty artisan truffles. Thanks for hearing me out Jamie love, and to my family and friends I love you so. And I lit another candle for you in Santa Croce today! You are always in my thoughts. Love Em

I Hate the Hours at the Computer Lab

This post is for Q. I feel like a stubborn little kid because I still don't like it here very much. But its got its perks. Like chocolate (the only thing i ate the entire day on sunday). And I probably aced my Italian quiz this morning. I'm going to a sweet Cathedral now for art history. I should have taken a nap this morning. The end. Love you guys. P.S. Q, I'm not sure if you can drunkdial me but you should definitely try. P.P.S. I have no internet from Friday to Monday evening usually so don't hate me if you don't hear from me right away.

Dolce

A couple things... All the little old Italian ladies walking down the street leave a wake of sweet perfume. It's still gray and cold and rainy. My Italian teacher fans herself like she's on fire when she wants us to repeat something to her, and my first lunch of the week was yesterday: A panini, and later a snack before painting which consisted of a caffe latte and a chocolate chip muffin. The snack was the highlight of my week because of the sheer joy it brought me. I was deliriously happy for the remainder of the day! Lastly, last night I played guitar instead of doing my homework and it put my host momma to sleep (I think this is a good thing, considering I enjoy peaceful, sleepy songs). I hope she never reads this because I'm going to tell you she was snoring, and it was the cutest thing.

So... I wrote that earlier in the day, and now its just about 6 pm. As I walked home from the metalsmithing studio I realized there were many more things I wanted to document and tell you about Florence, so you get a better picture of what its like here...

The tap water smells metallic and tastes very strange so I buy a lot of bottled water, you know, the supersize kind that stand like great towers of pure goodness on your desk. Even the showers (small tall rectangles in the corner of the bathroom) project this very hard, odd smelling water. The toilets have push buttons to flush, and they aren't filled with much water, so every bathroom is equipped with a scrub brush...yuck. On a nicer note, when I left class today I noticed that something was really different about the city, and I realized: OH MY GOD! SUN! We had a good twenty minutes of it, and it changed the feel of the place...lovely.

It is very urban. Most of the streets are one way, and cobblestone. The cars are small and there are tons of motorcycles and vespas with varying heights of windshields, either fresh or ductaped or making a complete roof over the top with open sides-very strange. Uncle Dave, if you read this, I saw a Harley Davidson store today! IN FLORENCE! No way Jose, is what I was thinking. Furthermore, most of the buildings are stone, or painted plaster over stone in a variety of muted oranges and yellows and there is almost always graffiti. All of the windows have green shutters-a kind of synthetic forrest as well as a pale olive color. Most windows are barred. The street signs are carved into stone plaques on the side, way over your head, and the air around always smells like a mixture of deisel, or vinegar for some reason. Except when the little old ladies walk by because they literally leave a trail of perfume behind them. I think they must use so much so as to be smelled and thought pleasant amidst such a thick city air. The occasional male will leave his trace in the air as well- these gentlemen often have coats more femenine than the female.

Anyway, I walk everywhere. Twenty minute walks feel short to me now because I'm so used to it, and actually I enjoy my walks because they make me feel healthy and accomplished! However, even though there is so much city noise, I'm very buried in my own thoughts and so for a while, everything seems silent. Part of me wonders if this is a good or bad thing. I'm still having some trouble adjusting, and these long walks sometimes make me feel isolated; a complete outsider to this culture and even the few americans I know. I have to keep my eyes down as well because making eye contact can induce unwanted attention. (Today I got sung to as I walked by a construction site... could have been weird but I was laughing). So in a gray city, a valley that is a rain trap between mountains, I keep my eyes down, and have little conversation. I am making closer friends though, which is nice. When I DO see them, its so nice to have people to talk to and laugh with and talk about traveling with etc. Anyway, I don't feel very much like myself at all lately, considering I have to re identify, or even redefine myself for my own purposes within this culture, and for all these new people who don't know me. Needless to say, its a little exhausting and a bit frustrating. It's still a very "lost" feeling. But thanks to my loves and great friends who keep encouraging me I have not given up hope!

Finally tomorrow is my free day, I have all day to finish errands and organize myself and I've decided to do nothing this weekend but homework, rest, and things that make me happy. For example, I haven't had gelato yet because I'm saving my experience for the next time I can make it to Vesti's- the best gelato place in the city. I'm going tomorrow I've decided. My mind is so scattered because we've really just been chucked right into things. I'm going to try and do nothing but eat gelato, and think about a boy and caffe latte. Oh goodness. Until next time.

Ciao
Emily

Lost and lonely

I had a bad day today. I'm very confused as to why I'm here actually. Not that I don't enjoy it, because I've had some really neat experiences so far. But I don't speak Italian and most kids already have their friends from Syracuse. Needless to say, I feel very isolated. I keep asking myself, why didn't I choose Spain where I could at least carry out a conversation lasting more than two seconds? And saying to myself, what is it like at Bowdoin right now? Its been really rainy here and I got rained on a good portion of the day, considering I walk everywhere. My 8:45 class is too early for my taste and the teacher is teaching us Italian so fast I'm feeling very overwhelmed. My next class was art history and a group of girls and I got very lost trying to find it, because the class had traveled to a piazza near the center of the city for the lecture, but we went to the wrong place! I missed half the lecture and scribbled voraciously in my notebook...can i use that word there? whatever. Next I had to make my way to the Fuji art studio which is SO FAR AWAY. Not fun, I had metalsmithing there, or jewelry making, but the teacher made us wait a whole hour before she even acknowledged us. It was only me and my friend Jackie who's from Bowdoin too. She quickly showed us what to do, though it seemed like she didnt care, and I spent the next three hours sawing little lines into a tiny plate of metal. THEN i got lost and walked helplessly around the duomo for a lifetime and missed the whole Obama innauguration. AND i miss everyone. And I miss jamie. And i miss peanut butter. So I bought some. At least that was a good part of my day. GAAH! Im going to be late for dinner so I have to go. Maybe tomorrow will be better. But I miss america!

Ok. Woah.

Dear Family and Friends.
HOLY COW! There is a lot to do here and I am pretty overwhelmed. Today was the first day of classes, and it was all blah blah I'm going to read you the syllabus. Yuck. It sounds like its going to be pretty intense. Lots of site visits and plenty of homework. I have yet to decide how I feel about this, but at least I know Bowdoin has prepared me for anything.

So, I guess I have some things to cover, since the last time I wrote was only my first night! So far, I've been to two monasteries, and I've been inside the Duomo, which is pictured at the top of my blog. To be quite honest, the church/monastery that I visited first-San Miniato-was much more of a spiritual experience for me. It was built in the 11th century, and restored in the 13th. BEFORE ANYONE EVEN KNEW ABOUT MY COUNTRY! WHAT???? It was so beautiful, and dim, with original sketches and frescoes on the walls and marble inlaid with gold laminate. So beautiful. I lit a candle and said a prayer for my loved ones, living and gone. It was kind of creepy actually because on the floor are countless names within the tiles because they are actually countless tombs. Eery. I almost cried inside this church it was just so alive with art and a feeling of peace and I was truly in awe. The duomo was much more grand, but had less of an impact on me. It had very simple, clean lines in marble inside, and I lit a candle there too. The third place I lit a candle (actually, these guys had little electronic ones you switch on after donating) was at a monastery on a mountain-Monte Senario- where nine monks...ONLY nine, live in the entire, colossal complex, and I MET one of them! He was really nice and shook my hand and said they have a community also on Jackson Blvd. in Chicago. Who would have thought? He had the bald head and everything. Inside this church, there were some reliquaries-pieces of saints and of the original seven holy founders. You could see their skulls and bodies through these clear coffins. Can you say way cool and heebie jeebies at the same time? Its been an interesting kind of pilgrimmage for me. And also, I had my first Italian capuccino in a bar built below the steps of the monastery (i know right?) Surprisingly...it was just okay. Apparently God doesn't bless a capuccino just because its closer to his most devout worshipers.

Driving up the mountain to that monastery was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. There were so many rolling hills and mountains, covered with groves of olive and cyprus trees and sprinkled with old stone farmhouses that people still occupy. Many of them have to be restored, and in fact my host mom has one that she is looking to sell. I told her I'd make a lot of money and move here one day, the view of florence is spectacular, and the air up in the mountains is much cleaner and fresher. Apparently in the summer when its super hot, they pack a dinner picnic and eat up there where the air is cool and refrehsing. What a life. It was actually a very gray and rainy day, but as we drove up, the clouds were slate, light gray, deep blue, purple blue, and white. The variation in the color made the sky look like a landscape, and there was a break in the middle, where the clouds turned white and the sun poured through and spilled all over Florence. The roofs sparkled, the fog swirled, I swear I have never seen such a beautiful thing before. As we drove higher we entered the woods, which were planted centuries ago, making the trees evenly spaced. The low dense fog curled around their bases and crawled along the forrest floor, Alberto, my host dad who speaks little to no English managed to say, "Magic".

Lastly, before I overwhelm you with information and you must forgive me because I myself am overwhelmed. I stopped at a museum with my roommate Liz, and we saw the David by Michelangelo. ONE OF THE GREATEST WORKS OF ALL TIME! I cannot even tell you. We turned a corner and there, towering at the end of the hall was the David. I always assumed he was the height of the average man, but this sculpture is absolutely grand. I stopped dead in my tracks, and spent the next hour desperately attempting to get a good sketch down because they allow no photos. My new friends, the illustrators, had no problem capturing his expression and beauty. I eventually got frazzled, frustrated and ashamed at my skills and gave up. Looking at the sketches now, I'm glad I have at least something and I will definitely have to go back.

Anyhow. Its been a long day and I have to start studying already! Tomorrow they'll be showing the Barack Inauguration in the evening, and I can't wait. I want to be done with all my errands by then. Last tid bit: One of the visiting lecturers is a thirty year old Italian artist who began as a writer, recorded some albums, and then made a successful career as a painter. I WANT THAT TO BE MEEEEEE!! Ahh! I better start trying harder.

ALSO FRIENDS! IF YOU COULD NOT CONTACT MY CELL PHONE! Apparently you have to dial a few numbers before the cell number. Try calling me this way: 01139 320 157 7666.

Grazie! I miss you all so very much. Staying busy is making it a little easier, but... know that I'm thinking of you, and love you so. I'm off to my authentic Italian dinner! Woot! Talk to you soon!

Love Em

P.S. Momma, thank you for the card and im sorry I keep forgetting to tell you that!! And I also lost one of your gray mittens at the first church...I'm sorry...I loved those so much and thats why i took them. Im way bummed and mad at myself. Ill find you an awesome Italian gift.
And Dad, still trying to figure out all my dates. Its way twisted so hang in there. I'm figuring it out.

And I can skype now! I found a lab with cameras. Let me know when you're free :-)