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!