hey guys, sorry it's been so long. i'm in germany, the land of my family or something like that. it's pretty swell, the weather is nice but we are on/near an army base so it's kind of like little america over here. i haven't really learned any german sadly, but i guess i can work harder on that.
paris was incredible. we went to a concert and pretty much just hung out a lot. it was nice to just hang out but it would have been awesome to get a few more touristy things in there. oh well, what's done is done.
sadly, i cannot post any pictures because i am on the uncle's computer, not my laptop, and i can't load my pictures up here so you're doomed to wait until my return to america in 4 DAYS! or something like that. i am pretty excited actually and i wish it were already friday, which is a vast difference (sounds like vas deferens...) from my sentiments towards the subject only a mere few weeks ago.
here's some things that are kind of (for lack of a better word) weird:
my fingers have been so used to the french keyboard that now i'm really bad at typing on an english one.
i miss target
i want to be back in france where people are speaking french (which isn't weird but i figured i'd throw it in here anyways)
if i don't get to exercise in the next few days i think i will explode
i'm thinking about starting to swim laps again when i come home
that's all for now i guess.
a bientot....vraiment bientot
Monday, May 26, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
sam told me to update my blog; so i will
right now i'm in paris at an interent café with sam and nada. also i am disregarding capitalization this post around.
This is what i've seen so far:
jardin luxembourg
tour eiffel
notre dame (the outside)
the seine
nada's family is wonderful and they're taking care of us while we stay there.
right now there is a marcel duchamps expo at the musée maillol that we're going to see today
yesterday we met up with james which was awesome
i'm already realizing that there is no way for me to see even half of the things i want to while i'm here which bums me out but just means i have to come back soon, as in next year... anyone want to join (and possibly sponsor?)
gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh
This is what i've seen so far:
jardin luxembourg
tour eiffel
notre dame (the outside)
the seine
nada's family is wonderful and they're taking care of us while we stay there.
right now there is a marcel duchamps expo at the musée maillol that we're going to see today
yesterday we met up with james which was awesome
i'm already realizing that there is no way for me to see even half of the things i want to while i'm here which bums me out but just means i have to come back soon, as in next year... anyone want to join (and possibly sponsor?)
gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
UPDATE ON OPERATION JOHNNY WATCH
This just in:
Mr. Depp spotted last week by la fontaine de 4 dauphins (the same road as last time)
He walked past a tour group taking pictures of the fountain.
He bowed galantly, said something in french, and walked away.
What a babe
New plan:
1. go to Monoprix
2. buy a lawn chair
3. Camp out at the 4 dolphin fountain until a sighting.
Mr. Depp spotted last week by la fontaine de 4 dauphins (the same road as last time)
He walked past a tour group taking pictures of the fountain.
He bowed galantly, said something in french, and walked away.
What a babe
New plan:
1. go to Monoprix
2. buy a lawn chair
3. Camp out at the 4 dolphin fountain until a sighting.
Monday, May 5, 2008
St. Tropez
St. Tropez
While everyone was preparing for their Derby day at home I was soaking up the sun in the lovely St. Tropez, our last CEA excursion for the program. Operation Johnny watch was up and running (he only lives 40 minutes away) but alas my life is a culmination of ironic events and he happened to be in Louisville, for the Derby.
The day began rather early with a 3.5 hour bus ride to the lovely town of St. Tropez. The streets were constipated with other tourists searching swanky shops for overpriced designer bags (you loved that alliteration, I know you did.) The chaos made me a bit closterphobic so we grabbed some food and sat on the port watching the yachts. Funny thing, in order to get from the pier to the yacht many times people will have a smaller boat to facilitate the journey, these commute boats are nicer than the boat we have at home. They are classy as all get out, which only furthers my conclusion that I need to marry a rich, rich man. We enjoyed the buzz of the OC of France for a while before heading off to the beach to top off our tans.
The beach was nice, small and crowded, but it served its purpose. James, Amy, and I started the visit off right with a dip in the Med. It was cold, my legs went numb, but it was incredible anyways. I mean, I would rather be in the freezing med, enjoying a day at la plage instead of getting ready for a horse race after a day of torrential downpour, and I am nearly positive you agree, whoever you are. We laid out for a few hours, most everyone ending up with newly red skin, thanks to the ridiculous price of sunscreen (12€ for a bottle?!? No thanks, I’ll settle with skin cancer…) maybe i'll put some pictures up later, but there weren't too many.
In other news:
1. I got a haircut from Marisa, it looks the same, but it sure feels healthier.
2. Sam and I have our tickets for Paris, it is going to be awesome. I also found out there is a music festival of sorts on the 21 while we are there where bands play for free on pretty much every street corner. That will be a good day.
3. This week is finals week and I think it’s going to be pretty easy.
4. The other weekend we went to Les Gorges de Verdone where we paddleboated through some gorges and it was amazing.
While everyone was preparing for their Derby day at home I was soaking up the sun in the lovely St. Tropez, our last CEA excursion for the program. Operation Johnny watch was up and running (he only lives 40 minutes away) but alas my life is a culmination of ironic events and he happened to be in Louisville, for the Derby.
The day began rather early with a 3.5 hour bus ride to the lovely town of St. Tropez. The streets were constipated with other tourists searching swanky shops for overpriced designer bags (you loved that alliteration, I know you did.) The chaos made me a bit closterphobic so we grabbed some food and sat on the port watching the yachts. Funny thing, in order to get from the pier to the yacht many times people will have a smaller boat to facilitate the journey, these commute boats are nicer than the boat we have at home. They are classy as all get out, which only furthers my conclusion that I need to marry a rich, rich man. We enjoyed the buzz of the OC of France for a while before heading off to the beach to top off our tans.
The beach was nice, small and crowded, but it served its purpose. James, Amy, and I started the visit off right with a dip in the Med. It was cold, my legs went numb, but it was incredible anyways. I mean, I would rather be in the freezing med, enjoying a day at la plage instead of getting ready for a horse race after a day of torrential downpour, and I am nearly positive you agree, whoever you are. We laid out for a few hours, most everyone ending up with newly red skin, thanks to the ridiculous price of sunscreen (12€ for a bottle?!? No thanks, I’ll settle with skin cancer…) maybe i'll put some pictures up later, but there weren't too many.
In other news:
1. I got a haircut from Marisa, it looks the same, but it sure feels healthier.
2. Sam and I have our tickets for Paris, it is going to be awesome. I also found out there is a music festival of sorts on the 21 while we are there where bands play for free on pretty much every street corner. That will be a good day.
3. This week is finals week and I think it’s going to be pretty easy.
4. The other weekend we went to Les Gorges de Verdone where we paddleboated through some gorges and it was amazing.
Monday, April 21, 2008
The Impossible Pun
Preface
1) My friends and I love to make puns about the cities we visit. These jokes are usually used for Facebook albums and Blog titles. Here are some examples that Brigette, guru pun-maker, has come up with in the past:
a) Pope Benny and the Jets (Rome)
b) Arles in Charge (Arles)
Needless to say, she is a funny girl. But, when thinking about Dublin, our minds were a barren pun desert. The best we could come up with was: the Dirty Dubs, Rub-a-Dub-Dublin, and the Emerald Bile, none of which conveyed the awesome trip nor were they in the least bit amusing. Thus I will from now on be referring to this trip as the impossible pun.
2) The showers in the hostel in Dublin were straight out the movie Hostel, flickering lights, cobwebs, the worst showers in the world, thus I didn’t shower for about 4 days. The bedroom, I might also mention, slightly resembled an orphanage/child T.B. hospital.
3) In order to get to the airport in time to catch our flight to Nice we had to be up at 4:45 so we deemed it unnecessary to spend the money to sleep for 3 hours and decided to stay in the airport to save some euros. As of right now (April 20th at 5:04 p.m.) I’ve been awake for 33 hours. I refuse to fall asleep until I’ll be in for the night, thus I’ll probably stay up until 9:30 ish, meaning I’ll be nearing the 38 hours mark, a personal record.
This also will explain my multitude of clumsy speech and grammatical errors.
Chapter 1
Nice
In order to make it to the Nice airport in time to catch our Ryan Air flight (p.s this is not at all a plug, for the most part I hate Ryan Air) we decided we needed to stay in Nice for the night, so we left early Wednesday morning to spend the day on the beach, eating gelato. The bus ride that was supposed to take 2 hours ended up being a 4 hour endeavor, which was fine because we didn’t have anything important to do. We arrived in Nice, where I was stealthy groped by a short, balding man with dirty fingernails. I’m scarred. What was left of the day was spent sitting on the beach, eating gelato, and searching for our next meal.
One thing you will notice with Brigette, Marisa, and I is our tendency to turn our vacations into gastronomical journeys. It seems like after every meal we are searching for a café for coffee or a place to eat our next incredible feast. It is a diet buster and sometimes a bit expensive but this is how we like to enjoy a city.
We slept in a hostel called St. Exupery, named after the author of Le Petit Prince, one of my favorite books. The hostel was very accommodating and quaint. At one point it was a monastery so it is beautiful and has the best breakfast one can ever hope to experience at a hostel. There is a bar lined with 12 different kinds of cereals, included Nutella flavored. My dear friends, heaven is indeed a cereal bar.
Chapter 2
Dublin was not at all what I expected. The 3 hour plane trip ending with a horrible landing, compliments of Ryan air, and the bus to the inner city took a while. We arrived at the hostel to drop off our things before heading off to explore/eat. In my mind, all of Ireland was an Emerald Isle, rolling plains of four leaf clovers spotted with greasy pubs and beautiful men with lovely accents. Dublin however, is much more industrial. Dinner included a lot of overpriced fried goodness
(Side note: I realize there is no continuity between those last two sentences, it’s been 33.5 hours, give me a break.)
Chapter 3
One of Marisa’s friends, Monasie, joined us late Thursday night at the hostel. She is studying in Hungary and goes to school with Marisa in Arizona. Friday morning we decided to go to the Jameson Whiskey factory to learn about the Irish legend’s production. The tour was lead by a leprechaun who spoke just like Lucky and he taught us an Irish jig. KIDDING. The tour was lead by a less than enthusiastic 20 something who never failed to make me laugh with his sharp sarcasm. The tour was short and ended with a free tasting. I was picked with 5 others to be official tasters. We sat down and were given 5 different types of whiskey, 3 being Irish, one scotch, and one Jack Daniels. In case you are interested the difference between the three is that Irish whiskey is triple distilled making it the smoothest, while Scotch is distilled twice, and American distilled only once time. The difference between the 5 was undeniable as I suffered my way through them. Jameson has a vanilla flavor, scotch tastes a bit burnt, and Jack is somewhere in between. It might also interest you to know that Jameson is matured in casks that are shipped in from the Wild Turkey Factory in my KENTUCKY home.
I am now a certified (I have the certificate) Irish Whiskey Taster which I will attach to every resume henceforth.
Afterwards we stopped by Trinity College where there was a second hand book store. I ended up buying 4 books for less that $10 including Pride and Prejudice, a Tom Robbins, a Petit Nicolas, and Manifestes du Surrealisme. As of Friday I have purchased 10 books while abroad, I am a walking library.
Dinner consisted of Fish and Chips, yes I ate fish, I am currently a Pesca-vegetarian.
Chapter 4
Friday night Emily, another friend of Marisa’s met us at the hostel. She is studying in Paris, and she is also awesome.
Saturday morning we met up with 2 more friends, Amanda and Alli, at the Guinness factory. The place was incredible. It was more like a museum than a guided tour. There were 7 floors where we learned the brewing process, the different types of Guinness, the advertising over the past few decades, and loads more. I thoroughly enjoyed the tour, which ended at the Gravity bar where you could see an incredible 360 view of Dublin.
We visited Trinity again, as well as Molly Malone (the tart with the cart.) The afternoon turned to night in a series of restaurants, cafes, and pubs.
Chapter 5
As previously mentioned, we decided to stay at the airport overnight en lieu de paying for a hostel. We arrived before midnight and camped out in a nice food court area where we read, did sudoku, and talked. We bought bottomless cups of coffee, the first time in months, which lead to 3 stomach aches but delightful dispositions. We checked in at 5:45 and waited in “the budget waiting area” which was much less attractive than the rest of the airport. Just because we’re economical doesn’t mean we deserve any less than the idiots who overpay for plane tickets. The plane ride was spent in and out of consciousness while incessant French children played hand clap games. A bus picked us up at the airport and drove us the 4 hour route back to Aix, our love.
Epilogue
In the end, Brigette, Marisa, and I successfully spent over 2 weeks together without killing eachother. We ever parted with hugs today. Friends who travel together, suffer together, don’t shower for days together, and experience gastronomical journeys together, stay together.
Guinness
The Truth
My Goodness My Guiness
Brigette knows that Guinness makes you strong
Trinity University
Jameson Factory
Whiskey Tasting
The Famous Temple Bar
My Dublin trip was soundtracked by the Beatles and then I saw this building
1) My friends and I love to make puns about the cities we visit. These jokes are usually used for Facebook albums and Blog titles. Here are some examples that Brigette, guru pun-maker, has come up with in the past:
a) Pope Benny and the Jets (Rome)
b) Arles in Charge (Arles)
Needless to say, she is a funny girl. But, when thinking about Dublin, our minds were a barren pun desert. The best we could come up with was: the Dirty Dubs, Rub-a-Dub-Dublin, and the Emerald Bile, none of which conveyed the awesome trip nor were they in the least bit amusing. Thus I will from now on be referring to this trip as the impossible pun.
2) The showers in the hostel in Dublin were straight out the movie Hostel, flickering lights, cobwebs, the worst showers in the world, thus I didn’t shower for about 4 days. The bedroom, I might also mention, slightly resembled an orphanage/child T.B. hospital.
3) In order to get to the airport in time to catch our flight to Nice we had to be up at 4:45 so we deemed it unnecessary to spend the money to sleep for 3 hours and decided to stay in the airport to save some euros. As of right now (April 20th at 5:04 p.m.) I’ve been awake for 33 hours. I refuse to fall asleep until I’ll be in for the night, thus I’ll probably stay up until 9:30 ish, meaning I’ll be nearing the 38 hours mark, a personal record.
This also will explain my multitude of clumsy speech and grammatical errors.
Chapter 1
Nice
In order to make it to the Nice airport in time to catch our Ryan Air flight (p.s this is not at all a plug, for the most part I hate Ryan Air) we decided we needed to stay in Nice for the night, so we left early Wednesday morning to spend the day on the beach, eating gelato. The bus ride that was supposed to take 2 hours ended up being a 4 hour endeavor, which was fine because we didn’t have anything important to do. We arrived in Nice, where I was stealthy groped by a short, balding man with dirty fingernails. I’m scarred. What was left of the day was spent sitting on the beach, eating gelato, and searching for our next meal.
One thing you will notice with Brigette, Marisa, and I is our tendency to turn our vacations into gastronomical journeys. It seems like after every meal we are searching for a café for coffee or a place to eat our next incredible feast. It is a diet buster and sometimes a bit expensive but this is how we like to enjoy a city.
We slept in a hostel called St. Exupery, named after the author of Le Petit Prince, one of my favorite books. The hostel was very accommodating and quaint. At one point it was a monastery so it is beautiful and has the best breakfast one can ever hope to experience at a hostel. There is a bar lined with 12 different kinds of cereals, included Nutella flavored. My dear friends, heaven is indeed a cereal bar.
Chapter 2
Dublin was not at all what I expected. The 3 hour plane trip ending with a horrible landing, compliments of Ryan air, and the bus to the inner city took a while. We arrived at the hostel to drop off our things before heading off to explore/eat. In my mind, all of Ireland was an Emerald Isle, rolling plains of four leaf clovers spotted with greasy pubs and beautiful men with lovely accents. Dublin however, is much more industrial. Dinner included a lot of overpriced fried goodness
(Side note: I realize there is no continuity between those last two sentences, it’s been 33.5 hours, give me a break.)
Chapter 3
One of Marisa’s friends, Monasie, joined us late Thursday night at the hostel. She is studying in Hungary and goes to school with Marisa in Arizona. Friday morning we decided to go to the Jameson Whiskey factory to learn about the Irish legend’s production. The tour was lead by a leprechaun who spoke just like Lucky and he taught us an Irish jig. KIDDING. The tour was lead by a less than enthusiastic 20 something who never failed to make me laugh with his sharp sarcasm. The tour was short and ended with a free tasting. I was picked with 5 others to be official tasters. We sat down and were given 5 different types of whiskey, 3 being Irish, one scotch, and one Jack Daniels. In case you are interested the difference between the three is that Irish whiskey is triple distilled making it the smoothest, while Scotch is distilled twice, and American distilled only once time. The difference between the 5 was undeniable as I suffered my way through them. Jameson has a vanilla flavor, scotch tastes a bit burnt, and Jack is somewhere in between. It might also interest you to know that Jameson is matured in casks that are shipped in from the Wild Turkey Factory in my KENTUCKY home.
I am now a certified (I have the certificate) Irish Whiskey Taster which I will attach to every resume henceforth.
Afterwards we stopped by Trinity College where there was a second hand book store. I ended up buying 4 books for less that $10 including Pride and Prejudice, a Tom Robbins, a Petit Nicolas, and Manifestes du Surrealisme. As of Friday I have purchased 10 books while abroad, I am a walking library.
Dinner consisted of Fish and Chips, yes I ate fish, I am currently a Pesca-vegetarian.
Chapter 4
Friday night Emily, another friend of Marisa’s met us at the hostel. She is studying in Paris, and she is also awesome.
Saturday morning we met up with 2 more friends, Amanda and Alli, at the Guinness factory. The place was incredible. It was more like a museum than a guided tour. There were 7 floors where we learned the brewing process, the different types of Guinness, the advertising over the past few decades, and loads more. I thoroughly enjoyed the tour, which ended at the Gravity bar where you could see an incredible 360 view of Dublin.
We visited Trinity again, as well as Molly Malone (the tart with the cart.) The afternoon turned to night in a series of restaurants, cafes, and pubs.
Chapter 5
As previously mentioned, we decided to stay at the airport overnight en lieu de paying for a hostel. We arrived before midnight and camped out in a nice food court area where we read, did sudoku, and talked. We bought bottomless cups of coffee, the first time in months, which lead to 3 stomach aches but delightful dispositions. We checked in at 5:45 and waited in “the budget waiting area” which was much less attractive than the rest of the airport. Just because we’re economical doesn’t mean we deserve any less than the idiots who overpay for plane tickets. The plane ride was spent in and out of consciousness while incessant French children played hand clap games. A bus picked us up at the airport and drove us the 4 hour route back to Aix, our love.
Epilogue
In the end, Brigette, Marisa, and I successfully spent over 2 weeks together without killing eachother. We ever parted with hugs today. Friends who travel together, suffer together, don’t shower for days together, and experience gastronomical journeys together, stay together.
Guinness
The Truth
My Goodness My Guiness
Brigette knows that Guinness makes you strong
Trinity University
Jameson Factory
Whiskey Tasting
The Famous Temple Bar
My Dublin trip was soundtracked by the Beatles and then I saw this building
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
italia
In case you weren’t aware, this week and last week is spring break. It probably won’t surprise you that among other things, spring break in Europe (at least for students studying abroad) is astronomically different. While in the states one might venture south to Florida, take a cruise to Cancun or rent a cabin in Gatlinburg, but in Europe because the countries are so close together it’s relatively normal to hop on a train to Germany, Italy, or take a tour of France. This is why the first week of my spring break was spent on a tour of Italy or as we so affectionately called it “Olive Garden, Tour of Italy, the Never-ending pasta bowl.”
Our journey began in Roma; Marisa, Brigette, Denise, and myself. I can’t say my knowledge was vast on the subject upon arrival, to be honest a big chunk of it came from the Lizzie McGuire movie (thank you Disney.) We stayed there for about 2 days visiting the most touristy sights and being annoyed by the tour groups. I’m just going to say: at no point in my life will I ever be a part of a tour group in a city. While I realize that I was a tourist there is a vast difference between being a tourist and being part of a tour group. I refuse to follow a woman with an umbrella or flower held high in the air while she speaks to me through walkie-talkie sending bits of information through an earpiece while we block up the road. Maybe I’m just too prideful for that or maybe I just refuse to lose my dignity in such a god awful way, either way I’m discovering cities on my own.
Anyways, after getting off the overnight train, which was an experience in itself, we dropped off our backpacks (yes, we all only took just one, incredible, I know) at our hostel. The Yellow hostel was my first hostel experience and I can’t complain. It was trying way too hard to be cool, playing top 40 hits as we paid and received our keys, but it was very accommodating and relatively clean. We started off the tour of Italy in the Vatican, touring the church and completely missing the Sistine chapel. We saw the Pieta and the incredible architecture before heading off to the Pantheon. In case you weren’t aware, it is election time in Italy and so we walked through a rally in front of the Pantheon on our way inside. To be honest, I wasn’t too impressed with it. Maybe because I didn’t know too much about it, but we went and saw Donatello’s grave.
Our first Italian lunch was at a small Trattoire where the waiter was admittedly hung over but very friendly. We shared two pizzas and explored the ancient aqueduct in the basement. The Trevi fountain followed which was what I was most excited to see. It was swarming with tourists and men trying to sell worthless toys. We threw our obligatory coins in the fountain, one promising a visit back to Roma and another granting us a wish. I’m not entirely positive but I’m relatively sure that three of the four of us wished for the same thing. Who goes to the Trevi fountain single and wishes for anything but true love? We found our way to the Spanish steps that were covered in people, thousands of people, just sitting. Marisa, Brigette, Denise, and I joined them for close to 30 minutes. A short pause at the hostel and then we found a small trattoria for a mouth watering dinner.
Day two commenced with the Colosseum, the most amazing place in Rome. I can’t even begin to describe the grandness of it, but just know that it’s INCREDIBLE. The rest of the day was spent wandering the streets looking for a movie theatre where we could sit for more than 50 minutes and enjoy cin cin cinema. To no avail did we ever find the place we only increased the size of our blisters. Dinner was amazing, Gnocchi is my favorite food I’ve decided.
Day 3 (this entry will now become more list like with side notes.)
Sistene chapel- incredible, I got goosebumps I also ran into a friend from UK who is studying in Spain, what are the odds?
Train to Florence, my favorite city.
Met Brigette’s roommate
Explored the city, which was less touristy but still filled with high schoolers that seemed to be following us everywhere we went.
Incredible dinner, as usual.
Day 4
Florence market, incredible sandals purchased. Real Italian leather, real gangster.
David- magnenemous
Dinner with Tiramisu, my favorite desert of all time. I forgot to mention that every day there is at least one cone of gelato, true story.
Day 5
Uffizzi. I made a brochure for the Uffizzi in middle school, never thinking I’d ever go there. It was pretty cool, I loved the Botticelli’s but besides that I wasn’t too impressed.
The group split up and Denise and I wandered into a café where we sat for hours playing sudoku, talking, and reading. At the time I was reading Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I would highly recommend this book to anyone and everyone. I actually ended up buying it for myself after an incident involving applesauce and a borrowed copy. In short the author spends a year living abroad, four months in Italy, four in India, and four in Indonesia. Pretty much she writes a story about my life, well not exactly but I feel like we have a lot of the same sentiments. In the book she talks about everyone having a word to describe them, just one word. I searched for my word for a long time, one to describe me in a purest sense. I found it while sitting at the café reading and being harassed by a homeless man who was later forcefully removed from the premises.
For dinner Marisa, Denise, and I went to a place across the street from our hotel where we were serenaded by an accordion and I ate the most delicious spaghetti of my life. Al dente with tomato, garlic, and chili flakes. Mmmmmmmm.
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Day 6
Left Florence after taking obligatory silly photos in from of the Duomo.
Train to Venice.
Checked into our hotel in Mestre, only a busride away from the island. It was a 3 star and only 20 euros a night, complete with CNN and MTV Italy.
Dinner at an Oyster Bar that we liked to call TGIVenice.
Day 7
First day of Venice Tour. I’ve never been in a more confusing city in my life. It was picturesque but practically impossible to get anywhere on a schedule. We visited the Guggenheim, which is frankly the best museum I’ve ever been too. The air was stuffy and the rooms were packed but it was the house Peggy Guggenheim (just because I say her name don’t think I know who she is, I have no idea) and it was filled with modern art that I adored. There was an entire room devoted to Pollock. Other artists included Dali, Picasso, and Picabia. I nearly died when I saw the one by Picabia, who is a dadaist, and i love dadaism. On the way home we ended up missing our stop and riding the bus back to the depot where we saw a man who was in the process of being arrested, be released and walk toward us as we were being told by a man who didn’t speak English that the last bus had run and there were no more until 5 a.m. We clutched each other and ran to a hotel where the concierge, who spoke English, pointed us in the direction of the train station. We bought tickets for a train scheduled to leave in 8 minutes and sprinted to the platform where we waited for about 5. Looking back it was a bit comical.
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Day 8
Went back to the island to finish exploring that seemed to be only inhabited by tourists and shop owners. Our train left at 10 p.m. so we wasted a lot of time at cafes and restaurants. One of which was a pizza place called Alla Strega which reminded me of Strega Nona, one of my favorite books when I was younger. This place had the best pizza I have ever tasted. There had the widest variety and the weirdest combinations. I ended up ordering the Diabolic, which included onions, sun dried tomatoes, mushrooms (this is the only time I’ve enjoyed mushrooms, I usually LOATHE them with the passion of a thousand blazing suns) and brie. I was sold on the brie.
Day 9
Wake up on the night train where Denise and I shared a compartment with a man who may have been in the mafia but was the nicest French/Italian speaking man I’ve ever met and a soccer player from Luxembourg who smelled like sweat and urine. We finally got back to Aix a little after 12 where we shared a bus with Irina, a friend from IAU who I adore. She’s probably one of my favorite people I’ve met since being here. We talked about her trip to Cannes and my upcoming trip to Dublin (I leave tomorrow.) When I finally made it to my house I set up a towel on my terrace and sunbathed for hours, leaving my back lobster red (although not quite as bad as last spring break in Alabama, Jennifer remembers…)
Tomorrow morning I leave for Nice where I’m meeting up with Katy and her mom (YAY) and spending the day eating gelato on the beach. We’re staying at a hostel where they have a never ending cereal bar with every flavor, including Nutella, and in the morning we depart for Dublin where we will learn Irish jigs.
Our journey began in Roma; Marisa, Brigette, Denise, and myself. I can’t say my knowledge was vast on the subject upon arrival, to be honest a big chunk of it came from the Lizzie McGuire movie (thank you Disney.) We stayed there for about 2 days visiting the most touristy sights and being annoyed by the tour groups. I’m just going to say: at no point in my life will I ever be a part of a tour group in a city. While I realize that I was a tourist there is a vast difference between being a tourist and being part of a tour group. I refuse to follow a woman with an umbrella or flower held high in the air while she speaks to me through walkie-talkie sending bits of information through an earpiece while we block up the road. Maybe I’m just too prideful for that or maybe I just refuse to lose my dignity in such a god awful way, either way I’m discovering cities on my own.
Anyways, after getting off the overnight train, which was an experience in itself, we dropped off our backpacks (yes, we all only took just one, incredible, I know) at our hostel. The Yellow hostel was my first hostel experience and I can’t complain. It was trying way too hard to be cool, playing top 40 hits as we paid and received our keys, but it was very accommodating and relatively clean. We started off the tour of Italy in the Vatican, touring the church and completely missing the Sistine chapel. We saw the Pieta and the incredible architecture before heading off to the Pantheon. In case you weren’t aware, it is election time in Italy and so we walked through a rally in front of the Pantheon on our way inside. To be honest, I wasn’t too impressed with it. Maybe because I didn’t know too much about it, but we went and saw Donatello’s grave.
Our first Italian lunch was at a small Trattoire where the waiter was admittedly hung over but very friendly. We shared two pizzas and explored the ancient aqueduct in the basement. The Trevi fountain followed which was what I was most excited to see. It was swarming with tourists and men trying to sell worthless toys. We threw our obligatory coins in the fountain, one promising a visit back to Roma and another granting us a wish. I’m not entirely positive but I’m relatively sure that three of the four of us wished for the same thing. Who goes to the Trevi fountain single and wishes for anything but true love? We found our way to the Spanish steps that were covered in people, thousands of people, just sitting. Marisa, Brigette, Denise, and I joined them for close to 30 minutes. A short pause at the hostel and then we found a small trattoria for a mouth watering dinner.
Day two commenced with the Colosseum, the most amazing place in Rome. I can’t even begin to describe the grandness of it, but just know that it’s INCREDIBLE. The rest of the day was spent wandering the streets looking for a movie theatre where we could sit for more than 50 minutes and enjoy cin cin cinema. To no avail did we ever find the place we only increased the size of our blisters. Dinner was amazing, Gnocchi is my favorite food I’ve decided.
Day 3 (this entry will now become more list like with side notes.)
Sistene chapel- incredible, I got goosebumps I also ran into a friend from UK who is studying in Spain, what are the odds?
Train to Florence, my favorite city.
Met Brigette’s roommate
Explored the city, which was less touristy but still filled with high schoolers that seemed to be following us everywhere we went.
Incredible dinner, as usual.
Day 4
Florence market, incredible sandals purchased. Real Italian leather, real gangster.
David- magnenemous
Dinner with Tiramisu, my favorite desert of all time. I forgot to mention that every day there is at least one cone of gelato, true story.
Day 5
Uffizzi. I made a brochure for the Uffizzi in middle school, never thinking I’d ever go there. It was pretty cool, I loved the Botticelli’s but besides that I wasn’t too impressed.
The group split up and Denise and I wandered into a café where we sat for hours playing sudoku, talking, and reading. At the time I was reading Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I would highly recommend this book to anyone and everyone. I actually ended up buying it for myself after an incident involving applesauce and a borrowed copy. In short the author spends a year living abroad, four months in Italy, four in India, and four in Indonesia. Pretty much she writes a story about my life, well not exactly but I feel like we have a lot of the same sentiments. In the book she talks about everyone having a word to describe them, just one word. I searched for my word for a long time, one to describe me in a purest sense. I found it while sitting at the café reading and being harassed by a homeless man who was later forcefully removed from the premises.
For dinner Marisa, Denise, and I went to a place across the street from our hotel where we were serenaded by an accordion and I ate the most delicious spaghetti of my life. Al dente with tomato, garlic, and chili flakes. Mmmmmmmm.
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Day 6
Left Florence after taking obligatory silly photos in from of the Duomo.
Train to Venice.
Checked into our hotel in Mestre, only a busride away from the island. It was a 3 star and only 20 euros a night, complete with CNN and MTV Italy.
Dinner at an Oyster Bar that we liked to call TGIVenice.
Day 7
First day of Venice Tour. I’ve never been in a more confusing city in my life. It was picturesque but practically impossible to get anywhere on a schedule. We visited the Guggenheim, which is frankly the best museum I’ve ever been too. The air was stuffy and the rooms were packed but it was the house Peggy Guggenheim (just because I say her name don’t think I know who she is, I have no idea) and it was filled with modern art that I adored. There was an entire room devoted to Pollock. Other artists included Dali, Picasso, and Picabia. I nearly died when I saw the one by Picabia, who is a dadaist, and i love dadaism. On the way home we ended up missing our stop and riding the bus back to the depot where we saw a man who was in the process of being arrested, be released and walk toward us as we were being told by a man who didn’t speak English that the last bus had run and there were no more until 5 a.m. We clutched each other and ran to a hotel where the concierge, who spoke English, pointed us in the direction of the train station. We bought tickets for a train scheduled to leave in 8 minutes and sprinted to the platform where we waited for about 5. Looking back it was a bit comical.
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Day 8
Went back to the island to finish exploring that seemed to be only inhabited by tourists and shop owners. Our train left at 10 p.m. so we wasted a lot of time at cafes and restaurants. One of which was a pizza place called Alla Strega which reminded me of Strega Nona, one of my favorite books when I was younger. This place had the best pizza I have ever tasted. There had the widest variety and the weirdest combinations. I ended up ordering the Diabolic, which included onions, sun dried tomatoes, mushrooms (this is the only time I’ve enjoyed mushrooms, I usually LOATHE them with the passion of a thousand blazing suns) and brie. I was sold on the brie.
Day 9
Wake up on the night train where Denise and I shared a compartment with a man who may have been in the mafia but was the nicest French/Italian speaking man I’ve ever met and a soccer player from Luxembourg who smelled like sweat and urine. We finally got back to Aix a little after 12 where we shared a bus with Irina, a friend from IAU who I adore. She’s probably one of my favorite people I’ve met since being here. We talked about her trip to Cannes and my upcoming trip to Dublin (I leave tomorrow.) When I finally made it to my house I set up a towel on my terrace and sunbathed for hours, leaving my back lobster red (although not quite as bad as last spring break in Alabama, Jennifer remembers…)
Tomorrow morning I leave for Nice where I’m meeting up with Katy and her mom (YAY) and spending the day eating gelato on the beach. We’re staying at a hostel where they have a never ending cereal bar with every flavor, including Nutella, and in the morning we depart for Dublin where we will learn Irish jigs.
Monday, March 31, 2008
More on the Animal Uprising
Around the world, humans have recently experienced examples of what can only be described as an animal uprising:
instance 1:
Brigette is brutally attacked by a pigeon on the way home from class. Luckily she survived, walking away with only emotion scarring.
instance 2:
Cats pee on all of Jamie's posessions, including her purse, pillow, and floor.
instance 3:
Sting ray jumps out of the ocean and hits woman on a boat in the face, killing her. (http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,340009,00.html)
instance 4:
Young lion jumps 4 meter fence in France and attacks a 4 year old girl.
instance 5:
2 Cheetahs attack woman in Florida wildlife reserve
(time.com)
instance 6:
My horse in Camargue tries to roll me over
instance 1:
Brigette is brutally attacked by a pigeon on the way home from class. Luckily she survived, walking away with only emotion scarring.
instance 2:
Cats pee on all of Jamie's posessions, including her purse, pillow, and floor.
instance 3:
Sting ray jumps out of the ocean and hits woman on a boat in the face, killing her. (http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,340009,00.html)
instance 4:
Young lion jumps 4 meter fence in France and attacks a 4 year old girl.
instance 5:
2 Cheetahs attack woman in Florida wildlife reserve
(time.com)
instance 6:
My horse in Camargue tries to roll me over
Arles has a licking problem and the animal uprising.
This past weekend we took a trip to Arles, Tarascon, and Camargue. It was pretty awesome, it seems like every excursion we go on gets more and more incredible.
Saturday morning we left pretty early and drove to Tarascon where we went to a Suleado factory, where the fabric is made. That was pretty interesting, but nothing too exciting. We saw a chateau, but I’ve decided that when they’re not really decorated to look like they did when they were being lived in, they all kind of start to look the same.
Chateau
Artsy Fartsy in the Chateau
This is how Chateaus can make you feel
We left for Arles to grab lunch before heading off to a bullfight. This particular arena was one of maybe 2 in the area that didn’t kill the bulls during the fight, which is why I chose to go, plus it was already paid for. The fight was pretty fun to watch for the first few minutes but after that it was no longer interesting and my attention was turned to my impending tan lines and my ipod.
So Close
Back to Arles to check into the hotels where Anjuli, Brigette, Jamie, and I dropped off our things in our room and headed off to explore the city, which was beautiful at dusk. It was during that time that we saw the café that van Gogh painted in Starry Night. We rendez-vous(ed) at the hotel to walk to the Bohemian restaurant where we enjoyed a meal complete with serenade and flamenco dancer. That was pretty incredible but also awkward because it’s always weird looking into someone’s eyes when they are singing The Gypsy Kings to you (who by the way, ARE from Arles). The night ended with girl time in the hotel room with Madame Maribeau and her taro card readings.
van Gogh cafe
Old Ampitheatre
Flamenco Dancer
Madame Maribeau
My cards, not bad.
Sunday morning we awoke to a lackluster breakfast: carbs, carbs and coffee. The bus drove us to a bull ranch where we saw the bulls herded and enjoyed the most incredible meal I’ve eaten thus far: salad, ratatouille, Camargue rice, fromage du chevre, apple tart, and du café. Once we were all filled to the brim with delicousness, we took the bus to St. Somewhere in Camargue where we stayed for about an hour and walked around until the bus took us to a horse ranch to go horse back riding in the marshes. I absolutely love horseback riding, but I’ve come to discover that I don’t think the horses really like me. Maybe it was because it was the end of the day, or maybe it was because the horse was part of the animal uprising conspiracy (thank you Jamie), but my horse was anal and ended up trying to roll while I was still on its back. Thankfully I’m not afraid of horses and I’m used to being abused by them so I just jumped off and everything was fine.
At the bull ranch
A real life cowboy
a bulding in a field
Anjuli and I waiting to see the bulls
Sepia toned
This how I feel when I close to bulls with horns
Camargue
Me and Joe, the demon horse
Overall this weekend was incredible and it only emphasized the point that CEA is the most incredible study abroad program ever created.
In other news, my translation professor died last Thursday due to crise cardiaque (heart attack.) He was the happiest French man that I’ve ever met and we’ll miss him and his British accent thoroughly.
Saturday morning we left pretty early and drove to Tarascon where we went to a Suleado factory, where the fabric is made. That was pretty interesting, but nothing too exciting. We saw a chateau, but I’ve decided that when they’re not really decorated to look like they did when they were being lived in, they all kind of start to look the same.
Chateau
Artsy Fartsy in the Chateau
This is how Chateaus can make you feel
We left for Arles to grab lunch before heading off to a bullfight. This particular arena was one of maybe 2 in the area that didn’t kill the bulls during the fight, which is why I chose to go, plus it was already paid for. The fight was pretty fun to watch for the first few minutes but after that it was no longer interesting and my attention was turned to my impending tan lines and my ipod.
So Close
Back to Arles to check into the hotels where Anjuli, Brigette, Jamie, and I dropped off our things in our room and headed off to explore the city, which was beautiful at dusk. It was during that time that we saw the café that van Gogh painted in Starry Night. We rendez-vous(ed) at the hotel to walk to the Bohemian restaurant where we enjoyed a meal complete with serenade and flamenco dancer. That was pretty incredible but also awkward because it’s always weird looking into someone’s eyes when they are singing The Gypsy Kings to you (who by the way, ARE from Arles). The night ended with girl time in the hotel room with Madame Maribeau and her taro card readings.
van Gogh cafe
Old Ampitheatre
Flamenco Dancer
Madame Maribeau
My cards, not bad.
Sunday morning we awoke to a lackluster breakfast: carbs, carbs and coffee. The bus drove us to a bull ranch where we saw the bulls herded and enjoyed the most incredible meal I’ve eaten thus far: salad, ratatouille, Camargue rice, fromage du chevre, apple tart, and du café. Once we were all filled to the brim with delicousness, we took the bus to St. Somewhere in Camargue where we stayed for about an hour and walked around until the bus took us to a horse ranch to go horse back riding in the marshes. I absolutely love horseback riding, but I’ve come to discover that I don’t think the horses really like me. Maybe it was because it was the end of the day, or maybe it was because the horse was part of the animal uprising conspiracy (thank you Jamie), but my horse was anal and ended up trying to roll while I was still on its back. Thankfully I’m not afraid of horses and I’m used to being abused by them so I just jumped off and everything was fine.
At the bull ranch
A real life cowboy
a bulding in a field
Anjuli and I waiting to see the bulls
Sepia toned
This how I feel when I close to bulls with horns
Camargue
Me and Joe, the demon horse
Overall this weekend was incredible and it only emphasized the point that CEA is the most incredible study abroad program ever created.
In other news, my translation professor died last Thursday due to crise cardiaque (heart attack.) He was the happiest French man that I’ve ever met and we’ll miss him and his British accent thoroughly.
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