Being An American Girl

Yesterday I discovered two very interesting tidbits, the kind of knowledge that can only be gained from travel. The first one is that in Italy, a girl can get anything she wants. I am not sure if equality has not yet set in here or if they are just a very forward people, but being a women here not only warrants you dozens of stares and ciao bella's a day, but also special privilege. I had noticed this, but for the first time yesterday used it to my advantage at the Central Market. Sara and I were waiting in a long line for the world famous sandwich stand ( Tripe, cow stomach lining, is the deli meat of choice here) to get roast beef, not tripe for lunch. Since we were in a rush I made eye contact and smiled at the sandwich guy who was helping one of the fifteen people in front of us. Sure enough next thing we know there are our sandwiches....making all the stupid cat calls worth it. This system works everywhere, if a women goes to the same produce stand a few times and flirts with the guy, she will have free tomatoes for life.

Another discovery yesterday was that English girls are obsessed with Americans. We went to a small bar near our house at night and I started talking to a few English kids who were in Florence for a school field trip. All the girls wanted to know was what it was like being American, how were the malls? What was Macy's? Had I ever been to New York or Las Vegas? Why did we call gay people fags? They thought being an American girl was the best thing ever! Which is so weird because doesn't every American girl try to talk with a British accent and try to be a spice girl? I mean these girls used the word 'posh'in a sentence and it sounded natural! I tried to explain to them how fancy being British seemed and how great the accent was, but they wouldn't hear of it. They said moving to America is every high school British girls dream and wanted to know all the brands we wear...all I could think of was Gap and Old Navy...which I am sure is exactly what they wanted to hear. it's funny how other people view my own culture, when all I think of is greasy fat people.

cinque terre

Squirreliken gets Salty!

This weekend squirelican got his fur a little wet at the beach! And not just any beach, but lovely, beautiful, quaint, picturesque Cinque Terre! Sara and Vanessa, two Northeastern friends whom I sail with, came with me to the coast for the weekend. We have all known each other for three years and know we can withstand any sort of traveling together since we have had sailing  trips from hell in the middle of Maine in the during a hail storm, so this was a breeze. Vanessa came up from Perugia and we took the train to Riomaggiore (the first village) Friday evening. We had an amazing hostel with our own private bedroom and a terrace that overlooked the water and the town. Riomaggiore is probably one of the quietest of the five towns which we had no problem with since it appeared that almost everyone we saw on the street was a local and I got to practice some of my Italian.

            The first night we had an amazing sea food dinner with salted bread! Who knew that a simple thing like salted bread would become such a luxury? That night there was a thunderstorm like I have never seen, convincing us that we may or may not be washed away into the sea.  The next morning we were woken up at seven am by the church bells that rang 27 times. Apparently no one in Riomaggiore can sleep past seven a.m. We started our day with chocolate croissants and cappuccino and then hit the trail! We hiked to all five villages (nine kilometers) and took time in each town to explore, get a bite to eat or drink and really take in the windy streets and precariously perched pastel houses.

            It took us all day, with some parts of the hike surprisingly treacherous and steep. We climbed 382 stairs to reach Cornellia and from Vernazza to Montarosa (the fourth and fifth town) the trail became a rock scramble on the side of a cliff, with a 500 foot drop to the sea on one side. We reached the last town tired, dirty and in love with the land. All three of us decided we will retire there and be cranky old women with canes complaining about the espresso and making rude comments at tourist.

            Saturday night we had dinner in Vernazza and sat next to a lovely Indian couple. Talking to them made me A. want to travel to India and B. hate the American educational system. They said that every Indian (middle class or above I assume) speaks about five languages: Hindi, the regional language, English, Spanish, French, and then they also spoke Arabic since he was Muslim. They were so nice and loved asking us questions and answering ours. They told us about being Muslim in India (although I am assuming they were not very strict since they went through a bottle of wine), and loved hearing us talk about being three young girls and traveling, something they had never heard of. We parted ways with them around ten and took the train back to our flat right in time for another massive thunderstorm.

            The next morning we were not woken by the church bells, but instead by a Rooster. The country-timey feel of this did strike me as cute, however the fact that is was only five a.m. greatly detracted from any love I may have felt for the Rooster. We spent Sunday morning being lazy at a rocky beach in Manorala. The water was to rough for us to swim which was a bummer but it felt great to just soak up the sun and enjoy the view. We headed to lunch around two, just in time for more rain. Instead of sticking it out we decided it was time to hop back on the train and head home to Florence.

            Overall the first trip I planned was a total success! I learned how to read the train schedule (no easy feat), get away from the hustle and bustle of Florence, and be with two old friends! Can’t wait until the next trip (Switzerland)!

The Gardens

This morning before leaving for Cinque Terre I decided to put my new Uffizi card to use (for 40 Euro I get unlimited access into all state run museums!). I grabbed my film camera and journeyed across the river to the Boboli Gardens, and all I can say is I will be there every day from now on! The garden is huge! Main paths go from one end to the other but there are also these tiny twisting turning trails that go through hedges and made me feel complelty isolated. Every where I went there was a secret enclave or a hidden trail that seemed to just meander. And about every 15 feet, there is a statue. Not marked and sometimes partially obscured by vines, but it made it seem like someone had erected these just for me, for that one moment I was walking by, and then they would be gone again. This is by far my new favorite place in Florence, it is so peaceful and it would be lovely to bring some bread and cheese and just go read for the afternoon. There are all these birds singing and an amazing fountain with goldfish in it! The fish reminded me of Gilbert and made me homesick for him. I wandered for an hour and probably only saw 15 percent of the place. I came out a random exit and found a really cute local produce stand with all the old Italian ladies buying their veggies for the day. It was such a great way to start my weekend, now off to the beach! Pictures to come soon I promise. My camera won't upload to my computer so it is a real hassle to have to borrow a roomies computer, use a thumb drive and transport them, but on Monday I will share!

Gelato

I can officially leave Florence a happy person. You may be asking did she find a hot Italian? Is she fluent in the language? Did she see the David and realize the passion and need for expression that drove the Renaissance into the history books? The answer to all of the above is no. I can leave Florence now because I have found the best gelato the land has to offer. I have tried many, judged on consistency, variety of flavors, taste of flavors (with after eight mint as my constant), and cost. Gellateria De Carraia is the golden gem of gelato shops. It has a ton of flavors, including the classics and such wonderful surprises as chocolate orange (Ellen's favorite), Mojito, Nutella and Yogurt swirl, and my two favorites after eight mint and creme de caramel. A small is only a euro and it is not small!
While we have a gelato stand directly below us, it manufactures cheap, tourist aimed gelato which they do not even pretend is homemade. De Carraia on the other hand is about a fifteen minute walk across the river and to the right, making it an adventure to new lands (and making me feel like I am burning off some of the calories). Located right next to a giant church and a convent, this is lucky for the nuns since I bet they do not have much free time and need convenience when going on ice cream runs. The church next door is as plain as can be on the outside, lacking a facade and any ornatment except a dome and a cross. But inside it is alive with pastel frescoes which manage to be light and airy yet never tacky or ostentatious. The statues are integrated in the paintings and the dome makes the church seem much larger than it is.
Of course why would one care about an ancient church when there are gelato flavors to be sampled.

Me, Kayla, Sara(from northeastern) and her two roommates Bonnie and Colleen wine tasting!

Me and my neighbor Kayla in Chianti

Weekend Update!

So much has already happened this weekend I can't belive it is only Sunday morning. Friday me and some friends walked across the river and pretty much straight up, there on a giant hill overlooking all of Florence is a church called San Mianato. The church itself is gorgeous, but what was more lovely was the fact that you could see all of Florence and look down on the Duomo and try to find where I live. I am so excited to take my parents up there! It was quite the walk though, and in my Moffitt spirit I was booking it, and turned around to find my friends about three blocks back.....apparently I was the only one wanting to burn off some Gelato. So once we got to the church we walked around it for a little bit and then went inside to hear the Gregorian  monks chant! It was so haunting and even though there were only five of them their voices could fill the entire church. Friday night we drank some wine and our neighbors came over to watch a movie, then we all went to bed early since Saturday was a very early get-up for everyone.
Saturday was an adventure day! Me and four friends went to Chianti through a student travel agency. After the bus ride there through amazing rolling hillsides covered in chateu's (which I am determined to own one day), we arrived in Greve. From there, us and about 20 other american students, each on ditzier and skimpier dressed than the next went for a two hour hike through the vineyards and up to a gorgeous old church. Don't be fooled by the length of time it took us to do the walk...it was barely two miles, but it just took a long time due to constant picture taking and the exterme slowness of the average twenty year old girl.
We ended our walk at this giant old house from around 1500 where the family has been wine makers for 400 years. They told us all about chianti wine and had us try a few different kinds that they make right there in the vineyard. We were served a huge lunch of pasta, lunch meat, brusschetta, and of course multiple glasses of wine. It turns out that in Italian culture lunch is the largest meal of the day, and Gelatto is meant to be eaten inbetween lunch and dinner, not after dinner. Saturday night it was pouring rain, but a group of us decided to go out anyways and stopped at the first bar we saw. This turned out to be a bad choice since it was dead and the bartender hated us! Due to the rain though no one felt like wandering around to find something better so we settled in and had a good time.
Overall the day was really fun and it was great to get outside the city, I can't be in the city-crowdness for to long so I will have to be on the lookout for lots of chances to get outside Florence.

Safety!

So everyday I have about four near-death expierences, and they all come due to walking on the sidewalk, or really anywhere. The sidewalks are about wide enough for a person and a half to walk next to each other, so naturally most people spill over into the streets. This causes problems for multiple reasons-1. The streets are barely large enough for a compact car and I have no idea how they accommodate the delivery trucks that drive them.
2. The vespas go as fast as they can and around whatever they can, including people, cars, stands.
3.Due to the fact the streets are not big enough for delivery trucks or public buses, they use up about half the sidewalk, at least twice a day I have to press my body up against a building in order to avoid being run over. I have been hit by a sideview mirror three times.
4. When taking sharp corners, apparently there is no rule saying you need to stay on the street and not cut the corner.
5. NO ONE STOPS, ever! Not bikes or vespas or cars or trucks. You will be walking along and suddenly a car will come barreling out of a side road and just go right on through. I have seen a few stops signs, but weirdly enough they are in English, which may be why I have never ever seen someone actually stop at them.
6. Apparently it is not gay here to have two men ride on a Vespa.
7. Vespas seem to be the only way people get to work here, around eight in the morning all the businessmen in their suits and helmets are riding their vespas to work.
8. Even though bike riders ride in the road with the cars, I have not seen a single bicyclist wearing a helmet.
Dad would freak if he saw how often I almost get run over. But it is not my fault! And I am now covered by about 4 different types of insurance so I have faith that my vespa wound will be treated well.

What animal is that and how much is a kilogram?

So I am supposed to be channeling my creative artistic spirit into a prose for writing class.....but this blog seems a much better use of my chi.
Yesterday I discovered the Centralie Markete/central market. This was like the best farmers market/fresh cheese/meat/homemade pasta/bakery all combined under one roof. Best of all the food is all fresh and so cheap! I got some lettuce, a cucumber (I thought it was a zucchini), four potatoes, and two onions for one euro and twenty cents! Of course since I still can only speak six words of Italian I just handed the guy a five and was shocked at how much change he gave me back! The only downside of this market is that since every thing is fresh and fridges here are pretty shotty, you can't buy too much at once. Also no one speaks any English! So I either point to what I want and smile or just hand them money and show numbers on my fingers.
A few food observations-
1. Bread here is not salted! So it pretty much just tastes like carbs, you have to put olive oil on it or something salty (hence the popularity of prosciutto).
2.They don't sell anything that is not in season, so no fruit or veggies unless they are readily available.
3.Berries aren't big here, maybe due to the season thing, but they only come in really small packages and are really expensive.
4.Zucchini is tiny! About the size of my thumb, and so far I have only seen yellow peppers
5. Packaged meat at the super market is so expensive! It is cheaper at the butcher shops/central market but I am not yet confident enough that I am ordering the right cut of meat, how much of it, and even what kind of meat it is!
Right around the corner from my apartment is a wine store and small grocery store. Yesterday I frequented these places and made new friends! The wine store man is a very distinguished Italian man who asks me how much I want to pay, then gives me a nice bottle for that much. I think if I go here frequently enough we can really become buddies.
The grocery store, which doesn't have much, nothing refrigerated but some good veggie basics, I went to twice yesterday. The men remembered me and we had a half in Italian, half in English conversation about mi casa, where it was, and that I was cooking, he seemed very impressed an American girl was cooking. He tried to teach me so Italian, I taught him some English, and he gave me a free garlic clove. Now that is good international relations.

First day of school! Or should I say nomera uno lezione.

     Living in historic downtown Florence and having to walk past the Duomo everyday to get pretty much anywhere, I realize I am in tourist central. However I have decided that so far I have heard more English and seen more seemingly Americans than I have Italians. I had never thought about this when I decided to study in a tourist city, but having the local industry be appealing to Americans seems to hamper the opportunity to be fully immersed in the culture. I have stumbled upon some of the cutest restaurants in random alleys, yet upon closer inspection I see the menu is printed in both Italian and English. In my mind this takes away from the experience, how can I claim I found a wonderful “authentic” Italian place when they obviously are appealing to a tourist clientele? Today at the supermarket, hoping to practice out my new speaking skills, I asked how much in Italian. The cashier looked at me, and in perfect English told me how much I owed and asked if I would like a bag. I nodded and said Grazie, since I had already exhausted all the Italian I knew.

     As for school, since that was the reason I started this post, it is so different than any class I have ever been to or heard about. Since this is an art school, something I did not fully realize until arriving, everything is structured in order to not hinder the “creative process”. What the hell is that? Just give me a damn syllabus and let me know what is due, how it should be done and when. My creative writing teacher today went on and on about how we have assignments, but he understand if we don’t due them if we feel we have a task going that is a better use of our creative time. Ummm, so do I not have to do the homework or do I? When it comes to school, just straight up tell me. I don’t want to have to guess on what my photography teacher means when he says we have an introspective landscape project. Is that a photo of hills? Am I supposed to express myself through the hills?

     The professors are also a lot more casual and open than my professor back home. This also may have to do with the art aspect of it, but when a teacher says that they are “jonesing for a cigarette so everyone have a ten minute break” it kind of takes you aback. But all three so far have seemed extremely passionate about what they teach and the students in their class. My largest class is eight people so it is a very intimate experience. I have met one other journalism major, which makes me happy since I was getting a little tired of hearing everyone discuss the pro’s and cons of oil pants verse watercolors and what not.

     Oh and one last thing, artist are very good and original dressers. My two pairs of jeans, smart walking shoes and black tees are not fitting in at all!

    So even though I have only been here for four days I already feel that there is to much write. Things have been a mix of overwhelming, amazing, stressful, and gorgeous. To start with the amazing-Well I am in Florence for three months, kind of enough said, but I will be residing in a lovely apartment about a block from the Arno that backs up against the Uffizi museum. The apartment is big enough, but there seems to be a lot of wasted space (for badits (SP) and a glassed in spiral staircase) and the furniture is old and creaky. Our terrace overlooks the river and provides a perfect space for alfresco dining and be outdoorsy in a 'drinking wine outside' sort of way.
     The overwhelming includes the fact that I don't understand the language, the school seemed to throw a lot at us that needed to get done and not a lot of direction on how to do it and probably most of all, the whole new group of people aspect. It seems almost comical because I swear I have been through this exact thing freshman year. The whole group mentality, no one really seems to say what they think or really be themselves, everyone just travels with the pack despite the fact that a pack is the worst way to get to know someone. And naturally with my sense of humor, people just tend to look at me and are either thinking I am totally psycho or an ass clown. My roommate, Amanda, doesn't seem to be used to someone just saying the first thing that comes to their mind....silly east coasters. Luckily I have my cool roommates and our neighbors are also Saci kids so we have all been hanging out. Having Sara Abad here from my school provides a nice security blanket, though we haven't seen much of each other while we both try to get to know our roommates and make friends.
     I have walked around Florence a bunch already but mostly in the old town/city center and have not had the chance to actually go into much yet. I have had time to start sampling the Gelato, and we even made a trip to the supposedly "Florence's best Gelato", total disappointment. Orientation is finished and classes start tomorrow. Today we crossed the Arno and in true Moffitt spirit rejected the ten euro fee for the Boboli Gardens and went to a slight downtrodden but decent park nearby to read for a bit and try to get away from the city. Being right downtown and with these windy narrow streets I am already starting to feel a little suffocated and overwhelmed by people and the city and constant tourist and vespas.
Pictures to come soon of the place and some sites near me!
 

First Blog!

So this is officially my first blog posting and I am hoping it is not nearly as narcissistic as blogging appears.  I plan on doing this for the rest of my life while living in my parents basement so I figured why not get a portfolio/resume started. The reason for this blog, I have landed in Italy.  For the next three months I will be living in Florence, attending an art school (yet managing to take no actual art classes) and figuring out such international questions like is any restaurant that has a menu translated into English a total tourist trap? And does fruit flavored gelato actually count as my daily food pyramid requirement? And when sharing an apartment with three strangers and you forget a towel, is it considered rude to drip dry on the terrace while they eat breakfast?