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