Amsterdam

Disclaimer: I am aware that I have not yet posted about Morocco. It is in the works but there is such a ridiculous amount to write about I have had neither the time nor the energy to complete it. Please bear with me, it will be up soon.

Those of you who know me are probably wondering why on earth, out of all of the places there are to go in Europe, I chose to go to Amsterdam...for the 3rd time. The answer, while perhaps illogical, is quite simple really. The city has a special place in my heart, as it is the first European city to which I ever traveled. Secondly, many of my friends from Rome had been talking all semester about making the trip, and because I suffer severely from FOMO (fear of missing out), I tagged along. Lastly, I wasnt really tagging along at all because we chose to do the trip on the weekend of my 21st birthday, and Amsterdam is the perfect setting for birthday festivities.

My birthday was on a Friday, and I didnt want to have to travel on the big day, so I flew into Schiphol on Thursday night with Marsia, Halley, David and Ben. We arrived into Centraal Station and walked the 3 blocks to our home for the night: a houseboat. This was epically cool. It was a small room with a couple of bunk beds, nothing special really, but we were ON A BOAT. We spent the night festeggiando-ing (partying-ing), eating Wok to Walk (go to Amsterdam and figure it out for yourself) and welcoming in my birthday at midnight with some belgium brew and a cake topped with fireworks (thanks to marsia).

Next day we woke up to a whole new 21-year old me! We were pretty useless the entire day; we thought it would be appropriate to spend the day walking around the city making alternating stops for food, beer and, well, you can probably guess. The rest of the fam (Eric, Steph, Allison, Matt and Mike) arrived mid day and shared in the festivities. That night we went out for a proper birthday dinner with everyone. It was perfect being in a city I love with the Romans I love most for my birthday. After dinner we did the usual things people our age do in Amsterdam but dont tell their parents about afterwards.

Day 3 was very productive to make up for the day before. The girls plus Davide started in the morning with Anne Frank, which I skipped, having seen it during my last visit. I spent my morning with my boys eating pancakes, seeing the floating tulip market and having a beer on the canal by the Leidseplein, a favorite spot of mine. We found a grassy knoll in the park and waited for the rest of the group, after which we all headed to the Heineken brewery for "The Heineken Experience". I had done the brewery during my first visit, but thought it apt to celebrate my 21 years with another visit. It did not disappoint; the entire thing had been revamped since 2007 and I got a whole new experience. After the Brewery, we headed over to Leidseplein for Wok to Walk round 2 with the entire group. It was delectable and rejuvinated us for Mr. Van Gogh. I love this museum because I love Van Gogh and it has all of my favorite pieces of his inside except The Starry Night. Lucky for me, it was in town this particular weekend, and to add to the wonderfulness of my birthday, i got to see it!!! It was absolutely magical, and while some of my fellow viewers were disappointed with how it was displayed, I thought it was done just perfectly.

Our last day was the most beautiful of all of our days in Amsterdam, so we celebrated (since my birthday had been a rainfest) by venturing to the Vondelpark and laying in the grass for hours. It was the perfect end to a perfect weekend, birthday or otherwise. Returning to Rome was an unwelcome return to reality. We arrived back for our last week of classes, followed by exams, followed by a mass-exodus of everyone I have come to know and love. Where did the time go?

Trying to find the rewind button,

J

MOROCCO!

*Note 1/15/10
11 months and 15 days ago, I got on a Lufthansa jet at Logan Airport and deplaned in Roma. It is inconceivable how the time has passed so quickly; it certainly doesn't feel like almost a year since I began the most magnificent journey of my life. I've been marveling at this over the past few days and just feeling generally nostalgic, which made me realize that I never posted this entry about my trip to Morocco. I also never posted about a number of other trips I took, the details of which are still fresh in my head as if they'd happened yesterday. So I'm finishing this blog, for it most certainly would not be complete without my Morocco post, nor would it be complete without posts on Budapest, the Tuscan countryside, my roadtrip, or my fabulous trip around Italy with Marsia's family. This is the beginning of the end, a year late, in memoriam.

I'm sorry this is SO long overdue, I've been absolutely horrible about updating this, but it's only because I realize more and more every day that my time here is running out, and I want to spend as much time as possible out and about and just being here, because soon I won't have that luxury. It's actually amazing how after I got back from Morocco things immediately started going downhill. Not in the sense that things got worse, but just in the sense that I'm conscious all the time that my time here is fleeting, something I was lucky not to have felt before. But in an effort to celebrate the extraordinary things I've been doing and not mourn what's soon to be in the past, I will recount my Morocco trip below.

To be honest, I was so enthralled in Barcelona world that I really hadn't thought about what to expect in Morocco. So after taking off from Girona airport in a thunder storm, I was surprised and refreshed to land in Morocco to the most beautifully radiant day I have ever seen. David, Marsia, Halley, Tara and I deplaned and found ourselves in the most exquisite airport. I knew that if the airport was this good, I was certainly not prepared for what I was about to see.

I was absolutely right. The trip that week is definitely the coolest thing I've ever done in my life. It was life-altering and illuminating, from the culture to the landscape to the languages to the food. I'm going to take this opportunity to warn my readers because what is to come will likely be a novella. Proceed with caution.

Day 1: Marrakech
The first thing we did when we arrived into Marrakech was go to the ATM machine to acquire some dirhams, Morocco's currency. When the options for how much to withdraw popped up, I realized I was not in Kansas anymore. I was given the choice of withdrawing 100, 200, 500, 1000 and 2000 dirhams. I quickly realized I had not done my research. I frantically looked around for one of my travel budz to figure out how the HELL dirhams compared to euros. Turns out, the rate is 10 dirhams = 1 euro = AWESOME. I didn't find out truly how awesome this news was until we arrived in Marrakech, dropped our bags at our riad, a beautiful little hotel around a central garden, and ventured off to the famous souks (markets). Everything in these markets was beautiful, fragrant, exotic and DIRT cheap. I got to work on my bartering skills as well. We found the most adorable little music shop with beautiful drums, including the first ever type of drum in morocco, which is very strangely square and flat. Spice shops lined the narrow alleys of the souk and we entered one to be greeted by a smiling Berber man who handed us chameleons and painted our faces with coal before inviting us to sit down for some mint tea. (The strange conic things in the background are spice barrels).
This was when I realized how different people are in Morocco than in America or even Europe. Our entire week was basically a series of experiences with Berbers, Arabs, French, any and every type of person in Morocco smiling at us and inviting us into their homes or tents for mint tea and a chat.

After spending an evening in the souk (which involved getting completely lost and paying a small Berber child 1 dirham or about 8 cents to help us find our way back to the main square) we freshened up at our riad and went out to the square for dinner. It is hard to describe, which is why i'm including a picture, but this whole square was filled with dried fruit stands, dessert stands, and long tents set up in the middle inside which were rows and rows of outdoor restaurants.
It was unlike anything I've ever experienced, we meandered down the rows between the benches of the tents as the men from each booth grabbed at us, accosting us with menus and offering us free water and mint tea with our meals, trying to get us to choose them. The way I describe it makes it sound absolutely horrifying, but it wasn't at all. It was so much fun!! We finally made our choice of restaurant and sat down to be immediately served with bread and olives. We were right next to the long table with all of the raw food laid out, and as we pointed to what we wanted, they would throw it on the heat and bring it over. It was one of the most delicious meals I've ever had.

With our bellies full, we paid what little we owed for dinner and wandered around the square, encountering performers, snake charmers, women wanting to paint henna on our hands, men with monkeys waiting for Marsia to take a picture so they could ask her for money. It was quite a scene. We returned to our riad for bed exhilarated by the day's experiences and ready to wake up in the morning and leave for our 5 day tour of southern Morocco.

Day 2:
We awoke early to quiet streets and a chill in the air, packed our things and spilled onto the street to wait for our tour guide to arrive and retrieve us. Because we had booked the trip through a company in the UK, I guess we had all just assumed that whomever was going to be driving us through the south of morocco on this adventure would have spoken at least a few words of English. False. Mohammed pulled up in the 4x4 that would become our home for the next 5 days and offered absolutely no intelligible form of communication. We quickly established that he spoke French, Arabic and Berber. We speak English, Italian and Spanish. You can see the problem already. Throughout the course of the week however, we began to communicate with relative ease through gestures and cognates and actually formed a nice bond with Mohammed. me and mohammed

Much more exciting than my discourse on communicating across languages were the events of our first day in the 4x4 exploring the Sud du Maroc. We spent more time in the car the first day that I think most of us would have liked, but we stopped often and saw things of which I could never have dreamed. We wound our way through the Dades Gorge in the High Atlas Mountains on roads built precariously into the sides of the rock faces. We pulled over to take pictures of various views, to wander into abandoned casbahs (yes, I guess you could say we rocked the casbah), to make friends in the various villages that dotted our route and to be invited in to many a hut or tent for mint tea and broken but brilliant conversation. We met so many people along our drive that wanted to introduce themselves and teach us a little something about their country and region. This was much appreciated and welcomed, since unfortunately Mohammed was not in the position to be educating us about his homeland.

We stopped for lunch in the city of Ouarzazate (called The Door of the Desert) where we had our first tajine experience. Tajine is a traditional Moroccan dish named after the clay conic pot in which it is cooked. It is a slow-cooked medley meat, veggies and spices and is served steaming hot. Tajine, we learned, is a real mainstay of the Moroccan diet, and we ended up eating it sometimes two meals a day, but because every place you go has it’s own unique spin, we didn’t really get too sick of it. Variations include either lamb, chicken, beef, vegetable, or fish that are cooked with olives, lemons, dates, nuts and traditional spices such as cinnamon, saffron, ginger, cumin, and pepper.

After lunch, we passed through the gorgeous Tizi-n-Tichka mountain pass and explored the rock formations of the Tamnalt Hills. We stayed at a hotel situated at the bottom of the Dades Gorge, which offered some beautiful views and easy access to the river that flows through it. After relaxing at the hotel, we had some dinner (more tajine) and hung out. Our waiter that night, Mohammed was hilariously unforgettable. This was where we first learned how Berbers absolutely love to rhyme. He must have said “Lovely Jovely” and “Crazy Lazy” a thousand times, and kept saying “No cash, no hash” even though it was entirely out of context. And when we were trying to figure out how to work the coffee dispenser, he told us to “Push push like George Bush.”

Day 3
We rose early in the morning, exhilarated to begin our journey through the Merzouga Valley to the Sahara Desert, where a herd of camels awaited to transport us into the Sahara desert. En route, we noticed a tent on the side of the road with some friendly faces and beautiful colors, so we pulled over and were immediately invited in for mint tea (Berber whiskey) and a drum circle sesh with our new friends. They showed us the irrigation system of the Sahara, which was fascinating, although the particular one we saw was no longer in use. One of the guys even jumped down one hole and climbed out another one (as if we didn’t believe him!) After tea, we bought some traditional Berber headscarves, which they helped us wrap onto ourselves to protect us from the sun in the desert. As we approached the desert, Marsia insisted that we put on Aladdin songs and Lion King songs (we couldn’t decide which was more appropriate, as we were officially in Africa but also in an Arab country). We arrived at the edge of the Sahara to a hut where we were able to gather what little we wanted to bring on the camels and use the Berber toilet (nature). We were led over to a line of camels, which we mounted, and before we knew it we were lurching up towards the sky, uncomfortably perched atop dromedary camels. We trekked two and a half hours into the desert on these camels, led by our guides Ali and Mustafa, two Berber men dressed in the most beautiful blue robes.

They led us to a camp of tents set up at the bottom of some massive sand dunes. We dropped our bags and ran all the way up to the top of the highest dune we could see. It was totally surreal. All I could see for miles and miles around me were rolling dunes of sand. Legend has it that the Sahara desert was created when Allah punished humanity by dropping a grain of sand on earth for every sin committed. Sah’ra also means “emptiness,” which I found interesting because there really was a sense of emptiness that could be felt. However, it was not a disappointing emptiness because I really got the opportunity to be alone with my thoughts, sit atop a sand dune in the most famous desert in the entire world, and just appreciate the beauty of everything that surrounded me. It was the simplest type of pleasure.

When we descended, dinner was ready. We had homemade tajine and sat around talking with our new friends. There were others on our trek and we befriended a couple from Spain, a couple from Italia, an aunt and niece duo from the states, and a guy from Japan who the berbers took to calling Japon. After the meal, we sat around while Mustafa banged expertly on a drum and sang along to tunes we all new that Japon strummed on his guitar. Josh even had a go on the guitar and sang for us.

After the drum circle died down and people one by one entered their tents to head to sleep, a few of us remained out in the sand with some of the Berber dudes. We played in the dunes, running up and down chasing each other and wrestling and telling jokes and playing games into the night. Before bed, I ran up to the highest dune I could find and sat alone watching the stars. It was so peaceful.

Day 4
We all awoke around six the next morning so we’d have time to dash up to the highest perch to watch the sun come peaking over the dunes. I was expecting it to be cold at night and early in the morning but it was temperate, making the camel trek back to our 4x4 completely bearable, save for the pain to my inner thighs caused by riding the camel.

After reuniting with Mohammed and exchanging emails and goodbyes with Mustafa and Ali, we piled into the car and headed for our ryad in the Merzouga valley, where we had our first real opportunity to just hang out and be. The ryad had a pool in the middle, a huge relief from the sweltering heat of midday. Mohammed also took us to a nearby lake, where we were able to frolick and make a human pyramid. We had the opportunity to take a traditional Moroccan bath, or hammam, and get massages, which topped of the day of relaxation. We had a dinner of tajine (what else) and hung with Mohammed before taking to our beds nice and early so we could wake up for a dune-tacular adventure in the morning.

Day 5
Almost before the sun rose, we were up and ready to get our sandboard on. I know that sounds like some sort of torture technique, but in fact what we were about to do was head to some nearby sand dunes and ski and board down them. This. Was. A. Blast. It was also an insane workout, because, being the desert, there were no lifts to help us to the top. We had to walk up to the top ourselves, carrying our skis/boards, which anyone who has tried to walk on flat sand, let alone a mountain of it, knows is no easy feat.

The experience was so thrilling, however, that we couldn't help but take run after run, each trying the skis and the board multiple times. Sand is a lot denser than snow (obv) so we were able to board/ski straight down some of the steepest dunes without accelerating out of control.

On our way back to Ait Benhaddou, we stopped at a donkey market in a tiny village. It was bizarre; I had never seen so many donkeys or even so many of one animal in one place. In poor villages like the donkey market village (and nearly everywhere in Morocco) there were masses of children beggars. They would come up to you looking forlorn, holding out their hands and saying “dirham”. It was hearthbreaking, especially to Marsia, who saw a group of little kids and decided to get a bunch of change to hand out, one coin for each of them. She approached the children, handing a coin to the first child and was immediately swarmed by kids who literally appeared from nowhere. Faux-pas on Marsia's part; we barely escaped into the van from the mob. Once on the road, we reflected on how sad a situation it had been.

Day 6
We woke up early to check out the World Heritage Site of Ait Benhaddou, one of Morocco’s most spectacular ksours (fortified villages) that once stood on the trans-Saharan camel caravan route through the Atlas mountains. To reach it, we had to cross the river by donkey, which was silly. Once on the other side, we climbed to the top of the ksour, reveled in the landscapes that included desert, greenery and snowcapped mountains, climbed on the stone structures and had a photo shoot.

We then headed to the mountaintop village of Telouet to visit the Kasbah of el Giaoui, the former war lord and Pasha of Marrakech. The Kasbah was simply amazing, and the architecture and mosaics intricate and beautiful. Our guide of Telouet, Hassan, invited us back to his mother’s house for lunch where we had a delicious meal, played drums, and met Bear Grylls before returning to Marrakech.

Back in Marrakech, we did what we did best—hit the souks. We decided this would be the day to buy souvenirs and gifts for everyone we knew, and we ended up doing some serious damage. We bought loads of leather goods, spices, pointy leather slippers called “babouches,” dried fruit, nuts, jewelry, and scarves.
We even had to buy extra bags for all our goodies because we couldn't fit everything in our luggage. We then ventured to the main square for another open-air dinner (where we were heavily recruited by the different restaurants) and had a fantastic dinner in the midst of the chaotic square. This time, we were careful to stay away from the adorable children performing in hopes of some money. We spent our last night in Marrakech back at Hotel Gazelle, where our friends welcomed us back with open arms and sent us off in the morning after having us promise to return.

Day 7
Before hopping on a train to Casablanca, we went to Marrakech’s famous El Bahia Palace, once home to Marrakech's noble family, with beautiful painted ceilings, ceramics, and gardens and vibrant colors and architecture. While the first 6 days of our Moroccan adventure had been meticulously planned out, we had no plans whatsoever when we arrived in Casablanca. Somehow, we were always in the right place at the right time; the second we stepped out of the train station, we met Hicham, a nice Moroccan taxi driver who offered to drive us around Casablanca for the entire day, for almost no money. This was a wonderful decision; he turned out to be the sweetest guy and showed us everything worth seeing in Casablanca. We first went to the city’s famous turquoise casbah, the Ancienne Medina of Casablanca, which had (unfortunately in my opinion) been recently turned into an upscale restaurant. He then took us to Mosque Hassan II, the fourth largest mosque in the world next to Mecca and Medina.
Positioned right on the Atlantic Ocean, it was stunning and enormous. More than 25,000 people can fit inside the mosque, and more than 50,000 people in the square.

Hicham then took us along the ocean avenue where we stopped at the beach to dip our feet into the Atlantic Ocean. At sunset, we drove down to the Casablancan equivalent of the boardwalk, and walked through ankle-deep ocean water to reach a tiny little island famous for the psychics and magical healing powers of the people who live there. Although the inhabitants are extremely poor, I was struck by their hospitality and willingness to invite us in and offer what little they had. Hicham took us to the tiny house of Fatima, who graciously prepared mint tea and offered us dates and nuts. Her house was so tiny we could barely fit inside, yet Fatima’s heart was so big that she generously gave of herself even though she had little to offer.

We were so grateful to Hicham for giving us such a fantastically thorough tour of Casablanca that day, that we decided to treat him to dinner at the restaurant of his choice. Although everyone said they were sick of tajine, we all ordered it for our last Moroccan supper. We got to know Hicham a little better, learning that he was once a professional tour guide of Morocco like Mohammed, until he got married and started a family.
Last dinner with Hicham

After dinner, an adorable little 3-year old girl, Zahara, came and sat with us at our table. She was an absolute doll, and spoke Arabic and Italian, so we were able to communicate with her. On the way back to our ryad, Hicham drove us by Rick's Bar, from the famous movie Casablanca. We weren't able to go inside because we weren't dressed appropriately, but we got pictures. Once back at the ryad, Hicham gave us instructions on how to get to the airport in the middle of the night, as our flights were at 4 am. We said a somber goodbye after getting his email so we could be in touch for our next visit. We woke up in the dark and walked the short distance to the station to catch our train to the airport. We took off just as the sun was rising, allowing us to have one last glimpse of Morocco.

I'll conclude with a list we compiled during our time in Morocco:
The Things We’ve Learned In Morocco:
- If you're even in doubt about a man's name, it's Mohammed or Ali.
- You will eat tajine for every meal.
- Don’t expect toilet paper, there is none. (We think there must be a Moroccan toilet paper shortage)
- You do not want Berber chocolate for dessert. (Berber chocolate=camel caca)
- Moroccans love to rhyme. Phrases including “Lovely Jovely,” “Crazy Lazy,” Push Push Like George Bush,” “No Cash No Hash,” and “Rolex Max without Tax” frequently come up in conversation.
- You will be called Fatima or Aisha if you’re a girl, or Ali Baba if you’re a guy. Or “Rasta con Pasta” if you’re Marsia.
- Bob Marley is a god here.
- Everything has been “Berberized”:
- Berber toilet= taking a nature
- Berber 4x4 = camel
- Berber whiskey = mint tea
- If you attempt to give a sweet little Berber child money, you will be swarmed by 7539 others
- Even the lightest of lightweight American girls can hold their vino better than a Berber man.

Barcelona: A Cultural Learn

Let me preface this commentary on my trip to Barcelona that commenced my spring break by saying that while I came here (to Rome for the semester) proficient in English with the intention to become proficient in Italian, what I have actually done is become moderately proficient in both languages. This was evidenced in the many butchered English exchanges that transpired between my travel buddies, Marsia and Ashley, and myself. Having taken in so much culture during our 3 day stint in Barcelona, it could be described as none other than a "cultural learn".

The trip began with a mild setback, namely that I arrived at Fiumicino, passport in hand, to check in for my flight with Marsia, only to be told that I was nowhere to be found on the flight. After a remarkably unfriendly interaction with the woman at the ticket counter, I was able to get myself on the flight, for a small fee of 140 euro (FML), and into BCN Airport with no further trouble or harm to my morale. We met my friend Ashley at our hostel and I introduced my two friends from two very different walks of my life: one my study abroad roommate, the other one of my best friends from home in Boston. The two got along swimmingly, and we commenced our Barcelona experience with an early night after some tapas and cervezas.

Day 2, though rainy, consisted of walking around the city and seeing sights such as the Museu Nacional L'art de Catalunya, Mies van der Rohe's Barcelona Pavillion, Salvatore Calatrava's Radio Tower and the Gothic Catedral. The Catedral was special because we happened to be in Barca from Good Friday through Easter, so there were all sorts of festivities under way, including a massive Pasqua Procession in which a massive crucifixion was carried into the Gothic Cathedral and brought up to the alter, which the mass attendees proceeded to line up and kiss the wooden Jesus. It was such a strange, crazy experience we hopped on the line and had ourselves a turn. It was awk. We also had our first churros experience. It was heaven.



We returned to our hostel for a late siesta and met our roommates, four strapping young men from Bilbao! They were so silly because only 2 of them spoke recognizable English, so we had fun trying to communicate through Ashley in Spanish. Ashley's Spanish is quite good, so we were able to make plans to go out later. It was really helpful to have Spanish friends to go out with since I would have been completely at a loss without language liaisons. At one bar we went to, the bartender loved our Basque friends so much he gave us all free tshirts!! I guess being a Basque nationalist makes you very popular in Spain.



We woke up probably too early on Saturday and rented bikes! It may have been the best idea we ever had, because it cut down our travel time around the rather spread out city, allowing us to see more. We biked all the way from Las Ramblas up past Gaudi's haunting Sagrada Familia to Park Guell, through which we spent some time strolling. On our way back to the Las Ramblas (where we were staying), we stopped to see Gaudi's famous apartment building and house. His work is really very strange but beautiful in all it's quirkiness. It really helped to know some of the symbolism (on which Gaudi is big) behind each building because it helped me to make sense of what I was looking at. Everything we saw of his was very busy and intricately detailed, but Ashley had learned about all of it in class and was able to help me understand a little bit about what was going on.

After Gaudi we biked down to the boardwalk and went to the beach!! This was the first time I'd been to the beach abroad and it was absolutely idyllic. It even began to rain and it didn't phase us. Ashley and I put our feet in the Mediterranean together and we all listened to a guy play guitar and watched some Spaniards do back flips on the beach. We relaxed for a long time, returned our bikes and went back to the hostel for a siesta before heading out again with our Basque roomies. They showed us how Spaniards party, and it was truly crazy. They don't go out normally until around 12 and they stay out until 6 at least! We disco hopped from techno, to rock, to pop and had a blast. As an aside, I was stopped going into one club and asked for ID. In Europe. Because they thought I was SIXTEEN. Are you kidding me?! They were not. Despite this small pitfall, I had an amazing night. We woke up in the morning, said a somber goodbye to Ashley, who was returning later that day to Salamanca where she studies, and headed off to the bus station to catch a bus to Girona airport, where we would get on a plane that would take us to MOROCCO!

March

I apologize for not having updated in almost a month. A lot has been going on and it would be too much to go into detail about everything, so I'm going to pick and choose. This month I spent a lot of time in Rome, which has been absolutely incredible. I am so in love with this city in so many ways. I love that I get to be a part of an over two thousand year history, even if the time I spend here will be only a minuscule part of that legacy. I love the people who recognize me at my grocery store, at my favorite caffe, at the bus stop in the morning. I love how fresh all of the food is and how I've learned to buy olive oil in bulk. I love learning to cook a new dish every week and making family style dinners in good company, engaged in compelling conversation. I love turning new corners every day to discover someplace even more beautiful than what I found the day before. I love that I've been here long enough to return to favorite spots, and still have new places to explore. I love the people I meet both in passing and the ones I get to know, and I love how everywhere I go italian is being spoken and I get to try my hand at it. Maybe it's that I'm not as busy as I am in New York, but I've never been so consistently happy in my entire life as I am here. Nothing can possibly happen to me that remembering I'm in Roma doesn't fix.

Most of my travel this month was within Italy, and it was fascinating to see how other cities and regions differ from the place I've come to call home. I traveled to Tuscany a couple of weeks ago and visited Siena, San Gimignano and San Galgano. I strolled through the country side, tasted wine made on the premises of a restaurant at which I ate, watched gelato being made and learned about the monks who inhabited a now roof-less abbey in a valley below the church that holds the sword in the stone. Siena was so charming with its narrow cobbled streets that open into sprawling piazze, like the one in which the famous Palio horse races take place (007 fans may recognize this from the opening scene of quantum of solace). My friend Tyler had spent the fall semester in Siena, so he was able to show us the elusive little treasures Siena has to offer. The two that stood out most was Kroeg, an irish pub with the most amazing specialty beers and a live band that had us dancing all night long, and a teeny tiny ristorante (the name of which escapes me) where Tyler had befriended the owner last semester. Here I enjoyed the most superb mushroom risotto I have ever tasted in my life. Siena reminded me that life just moves a little bit slower here. Ever since my return to Roma, whenever I notice myself trying to pass somebody on the sidewalk, I remember that I'm in no hurry, and this has helped to slow down my time here at least a little bit. Sitting on the Spanish Steps the other day I actually teared up thinking about leaving this paradise.

Last weekend two friends and I spontaneously decided to venture to Bologna. It’s really incredible how a 3-hour train ride can transport you to a different world here. Bologna is the culinary capital of Italy and home to the biggest university in all of Europe, so there was no shortage of delectable food and young, fun people. Bologna is famous for its porticoes, lining the streets of the entire city. This was particularly convenient because it rained the entire time we were there, but we managed to stay dry under the porticoes. We saw the Fontana di Nettuno and Piazza Maggiore with San Petronio’s Basilica. This is an interesting basilica because the bottom is decorated with pink and white marble while the top of the outside is bare brown brick. The inside contained the highest vaulted ceilings I have seen so far and also contained Foucault's Pendulum, which was very exciting. We also climbed to the top of one of Bologna’s landmark leaning towers -- the Asinelli Tower-- and saw the breathtaking view from the top. We wandered down picturesque streets off of Piazza Maggiore lined with every type of food shop imaginable. There were fruttivendoli (fruit markets) with heaps of beautiful fruits and vegetables, macellerie (meat shops), cheese shops, pasticcerie (pastry shops), and gelaterias. It can be described as nothing less than food porn.

The one night we spent in Bologna was one for the books. I had my very first apertivo experience at Caffé de Paris. Apre-Apertivo, we headed to discoteca “Hobby One”, which was recommended by our waiter from lunch. It was certainly an experience: we were definitely the only Americans in the club, and we were invited to a festa di laurea, or graduation party by some friends we made at the disco. I had the opportunity to practice my Italian with our new friends, who spoke little English. They offered us champagne and cake in celebration of Francesco's laurea and after hours of dancing, we made our way back to our Bed and Breakfast, but not before exchanging numbers with our new buddies, who will be visiting Rome from Puglia for La Prima Maggio, the May Day celebration. The next morning we decided to make the trek up to the Sanctuary of the Madonna di San Luca. In order to get there, we had to walk through the Portico of San Luca, an hour-long uphill journey through 666 arches, the longest portico in the world. It was a workout, but upon reaching the top we were able to see the beautiful church and pat ourselves on the back for our accomplishment.

This month has deepened my affection for Italy. It is so fulfilling to be slowly piecing together the puzzle of Italy, a country about which I am learning so much from many different perspectives and in so many different contexts through my classes (politics, ancient history and archaeology, art, religion). I can't remember if I've posted about this, but Marsia and I have started doing a language exchange with a few roman girls we met through a mutual friend. We get together every Tuesday at a caffe near IES and speak for 1 hour first in Italian and the second hour in English. We are more comfortable in Italian than they are in English, so it seems we're getting the better end of the deal, BUT it's so refreshing to continue to learn how much we have in common, yet also why our lives and upbringings are so different. This weekend, the first one of April (where has the time gone?), was spent in Rome with some school friends visiting. I got to play tourguide, which was delightful for me. Then last night, as I'm sure most of you have heard, we experienced a pretty severe earthquake. It was 6.3 on the Richter scale, but the epicenter was a good 90 miles from Rome, so what we experienced was more like a 4, but it was strong enough that it woke my roommates and me up in the middle of the night. Very scary, my heart goes out to all the families who lost loved ones and lost their homes. But I can now say that I have survived my very first earthquake.

While I will be traveling a lot in the coming week (Barcelona on Thursday and Morocco from Sunday to Sunday!), when I return my parents will be in Rome and I will be able to share all that I have come to learn and love.

A Dopo-

J

Paris, Je T'aime

I traveled to Paris last weekend with Tara and David, followed closely behind by Mike and Jeff. Actually, my trip plan was to fly over with Tara and David and then part ways with David while Tara and I stayed with some of my friends from school for the weekend. We arrived late late late on Thursday night and the weekend that followed can be described as nothing less than magical.

Natalia graciously housed me for three nights, and she and Alberta played wonderful tour guides in the City of Lights. The first night they took me to a 'typical' young parisian hang out called Chez George, which was basically a big sweaty dance party in the cave-like basement of a bar. It was incredible. This was when I first noticed the closet love French people have for American culture. Everyone at Chez George was singing along to songs that sounded strangely familiar, but just barely irrrecognizable. I realized that this is because all of the songs were American tunes, for which covers had been done by french bands, with the words all sung in French. I noticed this in the metro as well with movie posters. Every movie advertised was an American film, but all of the titles were translated into French. I also noticed so much American sports team apparel, something I have yet to see in Roma. This was interesting because of the intense America-hating I have so often heard about in France.

My first day in Paris was spent exploring the city and seeing some of the main landmarks! I started at the Louvre, which was clearly too much to conquer in just one visit. So, I decided with the help of my handy dandy Art History major friends Alberta and Tara, which main pieces to hit. We obviously saw the Mona Lisa; I'd heard so much hype about how disappointingly small she is that I was actually expecting her to be smaller than she was. This was a pleasant surprise. It was a mad house around the painting, but I managed to catch a glimpse. Much to my surprise, I found none other than Mike Molina in front of the Mona Lisa and he joined our little group for the remainder of the day. We saw the Winged Victory of Samothrace, Venus di Milo, Raft of Medusa and my personal favorite painting, The Young Martyr.
Winged Victory

The Young Martyr

The Louvre was a ridiculous clusterfuck so we got out of there pretty quickly. We walked through the Jardin du Tuileries, where I took a moment to sit in a spot at the duck pond that is special to someone who is special to me. We grabbed crepes for lunch (delish!!) and wandered through the rest of the gardens, happening upon what else but Paris Fashion Week's Christian Dior show. Now, I apologize to those of you who are into fashion because this meant absolutely NOTHING to me, but some of the people with whom I was walking were very excited about the show and we stood amidst the paparazzi pandemonium
and watched fashion world celebrities pass. Alberta even met the Sartorialist!! Big Day for Berta. (if you do not know what this is, see: http://thesartorialist.blogspot.com/)

We walked the Champs Elysees and found Laduree, the world famous pastry shop, where I purchased a confection of perfection, a rose and raspberry creme puff pastry. This I saved until we parted ways with CU people and Tara and I headed over to see the Eiffel Tower. I was surprised at how industrial looking the tower is from close up, and even not so close up, but it was still incredibly romantic just being aware of my surroundings as I sat below the Tower with Tara indulging in Laduree's finest. When finished, we decided to work off the sweets by walking to the highest level of the tower and taking the lift the final stretch. The view was actually breathtaking. I could see all of Paris and I think I must have heard 10 languages while I was up there. Pretty cool.

Natalia had a party that night so I got to meet a bunch of Reid Hall people, which was nice. Later, I got to experience the Paris club scene with Tasha's friend Alyssa. Strangely enough, I had a blast!!! We met two really nice guys from Poland and South Africa outside the club Le Cab, and spent the night shmoozing with them and dancing like maniacs.

Day two was the Musee D'Orsay, which I adored. Lots of impressionism and post impressionism in this museum, so I got to see Van Gogh (who I've already gotten to know through his museum in Amsterdam), Degas (specifically his beautiful ballerina), Monet, Manet, and contemporaries. The coolest part about D'Orsay is that the collection is housed in an old train station. Very unique and beautiful. We met up with Jeff and some of his high school friends along with Mike at the Musee and all ventured to Notre Dame after getting Croque Monsieur (yummy grilled cheese and ham sandwich).
If you recall, before I got to Rome, I really had an aversion to churches. Each church I visit, the more I love them. Not because I love the religion or anything, just because they are spiritual spaces and many of these famous churches hold a lot of history, have a lot of character, and play an important role in the cities to which they belong.
I love the fact that people come from all over the world to visit these places and that they hold so much spiritual energy. It makes me feel so small, but not in a bad way, just in the sense that I'm in the presence of a power greater than I am, whether this power is god or not.

After Notre Dame, Tasha Mike and I made a pit stop at Tasha's apartment for baguette, brie and vino before making a second stop at Laduree pour certains macaron. We headed to Montemartre for dinner to meet Jeff and co at an adorable little fondue restaurant the size of a shoebox. Literally only 30 people MAX could fit in this restaurant at once. We were served hors d'oeuvres and meat fondue, which is basically a piping hot vat of oil into which you dip raw meat, and a variety of sauces with which you can flavor your meat once it has cooked. They also served us vino in baby bottles. Apres-diner, we wandered around Montemartre and saw the Moulin Rouge (which probably would have been cooler had I seen the movie) and Sacre Coeur, which was STUNNING at night. Hilariously enough, Jeff's friend from high school brought some friends from his madrid program to dinner, one of which was a long lost friend from high school. Fun to run into her and have worlds collide in Paris.

Early flight the next morning was not fun, but I got back to Roma with Tara and Dave safe and sound. Had a great week in Roma, the weather has been B-E-A-UTIFUL and the weekend is shaping up to be the same. This afternoon I met up with some friends and went up to the top of the Janiculum, or Gianicolo, the second highest hill in Roma. It has literally the best view I have seen of the city to date. My camera died, so pictures of this will have to wait.

In other news, my parents are officially coming to visit!!!! AND I booked my spring break trip to Barcelona and Morocco!!! I'm going with 5 friends and we're taking a private guided trip from Marrakech into the desert where we will explore, drink mint tea, see children make fresh flower garlands, sleep under the stars with Berbers, and ride camels!! Will also make a stop in Casablanca to see the second biggest Mosque in the world, get some beach time and clearly visit Rick's Bar (+10 points for whoever knows what that's from!!)

Ci Vediamo Prestoooo!!

baci-
J

There's No 5-Second Rule in a Hostel

Florence was my first non-IES sponsored trip and it was fabulous. I was a little concerned about traveling with such a large group; there were 9 of us venturing to Florence for the weekend. It turned out really well though, because everybody felt comfortable doing their own thing, so I didn't end up feeling like I had to stick with everyone 24/7.

I had a relaxing train ride from Roma to Firenze. While we took the slow train and some people complained about the length of this trip, I never mind traveling for long periods of time. Even though I discovered my ipod was dead as a doornail the moment we sat down on the train, I was able to finish my book, which is always satisfying and little disappointing for me. Anyway, the train meandered through the Tuscan countryside, offering beautiful views of little towns perched on hills and sheep grazing in valleys below. After getting in to Florence, we walked to our hostel on a route that took us through pretty much all of the major areas in Florence. We saw the Duomo and the Ponte Vecchio just on the short walk to the hostel! We were greeted by Vladi, the sweetest guy and the owner of the Hostel. We became fast friends when he circled all the "must-sees" on a map for us and offered to meet us for drinks later!

I spent the rest of the day just walking all over the city, along the Arno, through the major piazze and down little alleys with a rotating group of friends. I got to enjoy Piazza Repubblica, Ponte Vecchio, the Duomo and even Michelangelo's house!! I also dipped into many little churches I discovered lining the narrow streets of the city.


Exhausted, we had an early night after meeting up with the group for dinner at the tiniest lid ristorante. In the morning, the 9 of us went to breakfast with Vladi and then ventured to our appointment at the Uffizzi gallery! We got to skip the ridiculous line because Tara had the foresight to make a reservation. Nice move Tara! I love how the gallery is set up; it starts with paintings from the medieval period with romanesque, byzantine and gothic, and works its way through renaissance. Being with Tara (reminder: art history major) was incredible because she was able to provide little tidbits that really helped me to appreciate more what I was seeing. She pointed out details that helped put each painting into context, such as the medieval use of gold backgrounds in comparison to the use of detailed backgrounds that began suddenly in the 1400s when people realized that not all art had to revolve around Jesus and the church. I learned that this is the time when people started commissioning art for their homes instead of artists just creating pieces for church alters. Very interesting.

After the Uffizzi, I decided that since a certain friend owed me money, I would make him pay the 8 euro for me to climb to the top of the Duomo. He graciously accompanied me, and we climbed the over 400 steps to the top of the massive dome, which overlooks all of Florence. Even if I had had to pay that 8 euro by myself, it would have been worth it. I never wanted to climb down. The day was perfectly clear and beautiful and I stayed up there, taking in the views from all 360 degrees for over an hour. Really special was being able to stand on the side of the dome that overlooks the piazza and having a perfect view of Giotto's bell tower.




After I reluctantly descended, I ventured over to the Church of San Lorenzo, where I was very excited to see the Medici Chapel and Biblioteca Laurentina, where Michelangelo's famous steps are located. Much to my dismay, the chapel and biblioteca were closed until march. This was a huge letdown and but me in a sour mood for a little while. However, when I met up with Tara in front of the duomo, my mood was brightened to discover that she had been coerced into buying a leather jacket she was not interested in keeping. I tried it on and it fit perfectly!! A leather jacket is the one item I told myself I was allowed to buy here, and I was able to buy the jacket off of her!! Not to mention she had gotten it for half price.

That night, we had a reservation at Il Latini, a restaurant where you pay a fixed price and they bring you food all night. It was basically a 5 course meal. About an hour before dinner I got a call from DANIELLE who had just arrived in Firenze. We dropped her stuff at the hostel and she joined the 9 of us for dinner! It was delightful; we had antipasti of pate on yummy bread and fried polenta bites, then three different types of soup, three different types of pasta and lots of MEAT!! After these courses we had an array of desserts and cappuccino. At the end of the meal, our server, Alessandro, brought us three bottles of Il Latini wine, per gratis!!! It was a wonderful experience, everyone at the restaurant was so friendly and we were in great company.


We spent the rest of the night exploring Florence, and woke up in the morning to go to the Accademia, which houses The David. He was pretty incredible. I wasn't expecting to see him when I did. We walked in to a room with some paintings, and then turned into another hallway which houses Michelangelo's prisoners. I LOVED these statues because they are unfinished sculptures of Michelangelo's, so the figures are literally imprisoned in the block on stone. Not to mention it was fascinating to see a preserved step of the creative process of one of the world's most renowned artists. As I was observing the prisoners, I lifted my head up to see David towering at the end of the hall. Was not expecting it, but I was pulled toward him and could not look away. He is MASSIVE and perfectly proportioned and Michelangelo perfectly captures the details of his body: veins, muscles, his broad shoulders, even his toes. I walked around him and around him, taking in each angle. I liked looking at him from all the way to the right of the hall; he is positioned so that no matter how hard you try, no matter how far against the right wall of the room you can't ever catch his gaze. It's very mysterious.

Back when I saw Bernini's David, I said it would be interesting to compare, and it was. Bernini and Michelangelo captured David at two very different moments, and each statue is therefore amazing in different ways. Bernini captures the tension and determination in David's face and body as he throws the fatal stone at Goliath. When I saw The David, I imagined Michelangelo had intended it to be in the aftermath of killing Goliath. He is pensive and calm, with his slingshot draped over his shoulder. It's almost as if he's wondering what to do next, now that his nemesis is dead. Not until later did I find out I had completely misinterpreted the piece. Michelangelo in fact depicts David before the battle, humbled before the task that lies ahead of him. Oh well, shows what I know about art.

After the Accademia, a few of us went and found the elusive "best gelateria in Florence". It did not disappoint; it was the best gelato I've had to date in Italy. We returned to the hostel to collect our belongings and say a somber farewell to Vladi, promising we'd be back, and I will be because I want to return in March or April to visit San Lorenzo and Piazzale di Michelangelo.


Overall, a very successful trip. It was a bit of a letdown to leave Florence. It is so small that after just a few days there I felt right at home and as though I knew my way around. However, it was very exciting to be able to return to Rome, which I can now affectionately call home.

Paris on Thursday!!!

A Presto-

J

Back to School...

I guess a lot has happened since I last wrote, in the sense that my time in Roma has transitioned from honeymoon-vacation-phase to closer to the reality with which I am familiar. While I'm getting back into the swing of school, or something like it, there are still small experiences that occur each day that remind me where I am and how amazing that is.

Last week was marked by intensive italian class. This was first and foremost a reminder of how little I have retained from language classes back at Columbia. In the end, it was extremely helpful to review all of the verb tenses I've studied in the past and practice speaking with each other in class. I have come to realize that having taken 4 semesters of Italian, while I may sometimes feel that I don't know that much, has been and will continue to be a wonderful advantage. I have so far found myself in two drastically different linguistic situations, and rarely anywhere in between. The first is when I am on my A-game and the words I need are right there on the tip of my tongue. The other, upsetting and utterly infuriating, is when I feel as though no matter how hard I try to say what I want to express, I am trapped inside my body with no way to communicate except for with distressed facial expressions. The latter makes me want to curl up and die and usually occurs when I'm being spoken to in rapid fire italian by the man at the grocery store or the angry bum on the street. However, these two occur regularly on a day to day basis, so usually balance each other out. For that reason, I do not feel as though my italian has improved all that much, but I am confident that I will soon start to notice some headway. Half the trouble is convincing myself to TRY, and I already feel more comfortable doing that.
Today I had a very simple interaction with a woman who's way I was blocking on the bus. "Scendi?" I asked, wondering if she planned to get off at the next stop. "Si," she replied. This was particularly satisfying mostly because 'do you plan on getting off at the next stop' is so much more simply said in Italian. I'm picking up on so many of these little words and phrases, colloquialisms that I would never have learned in class. Two others are 'schialiamo' and 'da paura', courtesy of niccolo' and giaime. They mean "lets chill/hang out" and "that's sick" (that's so cool) respectively. I have yet to employ them, but it WILL happen soon.

Last weekend consisted of an out-of-this-world dinner for a friend's 21st, testing the waters of the Roma club scene, and a visit to paradise on earth, the Villa Borghese. Olio, Sale e Pepe is a ristorante right around the corner from our apartment and offers a set price for all you can eat appetizers, pizza and drinks, dessert and coffee included. Best pizza I've had here yet. Needless to say, the quote of the night became "I'm never eating pizza again...until tomorrow."
I was disappointed with the club scene of Rome, probably because it was so much like the NYC club scene, in that I don't belong in it. Long lines, people in heels, exorbitant cover charges. Not for me.

The Borghese visit, however, was for me. It was a mecca of classical antiquities surrounded by the most beautiful of gardens. I ventured up to the Villa Borghese with my roommate and Valentine Tara on Saturday afternoon. We had a 1 pm appointment at the Galleria and had never used the Metro before, so we arrived at the Galleria huffing and puffing and utterly disheveled. It didn't take long to shake that off though, because the scene in front of the old Borghese villa was nowhere short of perfection. The sun was shining down upon the people dotting the lawns. Couples lay on the grass embracing each other while a man in a funny hat stood, saxophone in hand, serenading the crowd to smooth, slow jazz recordings. A father smiled as he took his little daughter's hand, twirling her around and around and around. And Tara and I stood on the steps of the magnificent building taking in all of this.


Then we went inside. I could go on about the Galleria forever, so I will just talk about my favorite pieces. I knew from the beginning I was not going to have enough time to get to everything, mostly because they limit the visits to two hours, and while the villa itself is not exceptionally big, there is SO much packed into its rooms that to absorb and appreciate it all in two hours would be impossible. The reason I know about the Galleria Borghese is because of the Bernini that it houses. These were what I was most excited to see, and these were what I focused on during my visit. When I entered the villa, I was bombarded with frescoes and reliefs and statues and mosaics on all sides. The ceilings, walls and floors are literally covered from top to bottom, left all the way to right with works of art. I loved the fact that every time I looked up at the ceiling in any one of the rooms, my eyes were met with a scene of the Gods. I don't know much about art and therefore don't know if placing divine scenes on the ceiling is traditional, but I thought it was so perfect that they should be what we see when we look upwards, almost as if they are watching over us.

The other remarkable thing about the entrance room is that the back wall has a glass window right smack in the middle, through which you can see the sculpture I had been waiting and waiting to see. La Ratta di Persorpina. The Rape of Persephone by Bernini has always amazed me because the first time I ever saw it, I was shown a small picture of just a small part of it, the hand of Pluto on the thigh of Persephone. When I was shown this picture, I didn't know what I was looking at, and to me, this image looked like a real hand grasping a real thigh. When I was informed that this was a stature carved from marble, I was in awe. Getting my first glimpse of the masterpiece was very exciting.

The three things I loved the most were obviously the three most famous Bernini statues. David is colossal (though not nearly as colossal as Michelangelo's The David: it will be interesting to compare when I go to Florence this coming weekend) and full of tension. His face is scrunched up illustrating the strength required for torquing his body to launch the fatal stone at Goliath. His eyebrows furrow, the muscles in his legs flex, the veins in his arms and feet bulge. I noticed the same life-like details when I finally entered the room with Pluto and Persephone. The very first thing I noticed was Pluto's sturdy, solid leg holding his weight and the weight of Persephone as he abducts her. The most enchanting details for me were the way Pluto's hands grip into Persephone's thigh and side, folds of white, marble skin yielding beneath them. I loved these two statues so much. I stood in front of David for what felt like hours, walking around and around him, trying to figure out how Bernini could have carved his body into that cork-screw shape. I spent even longer with Pluto and Persephone. I stared so long and hard at them I swear they came to life for a moment. Like I swear to god I saw Pluto's hair wave as Persephone writhes, pushing his head away with her hand, trying to escape.

Lastly, I was impressed by Apollo and Daphne. This statue was not like the others. Yes, all three tell harrowing stories. Yes, all three convey intense emotion. But Apollo and Daphne didn't strike me because of their life-like features or the tension held between their eyes. I actually found their faces to be quite inexpressive. I was mostly awed by the intricacies of the statue, the way Bernini must have carved those hundreds of ever so detailed leaves as Daphne turns into a laurel tree, carved so carefully that when struck, the marble rings. I was awed by the way Apollo stands perched on one leg, his other leg seeming to float above the ground as he extends forward, trying to catch Daphne. The way Daphne's features so gently and subtly fade into the bark of the tree, her toes into the roots, rendered me reverential. Like the many ancient buildings I've seen so far in Rome, these statues spark deep admiration and appreciation for Bernini and his genius. The minute I stepped out the door I was already planning my next visit.

***

This week marks the beginning of 'real' classes. So far, I am in love with all of mine. I am taking Forma Urbis, an ancient archaeology class with Gianni Ponti (my adviser and the absolute MAN) which includes site visits to almost all of the famous architectural and archaeological sites in Rome, a contemporary italian politics class taught in Italian by a very sweet man name Mattia, a photography class in italian at a local university, and an international relations class on Italy and the US taught by two Roma Tre professors (another local uni). I will also be auditing a class on commedia, the italian theatre tradition and am taking the obligatory italian language class. SO far, all are good. I have already learned SO much and it all already ties in so well with my experience here so far; everything is relevant and everything I learn can be seen in practice or implementation somewhere in the city. More details on class to come.

I am tired now and I have some reading to do for Gianni. I leave for Florence on Friday morning with a bunch of friends (and hopefully I will get to see DANILKA), so I will have lots to report when I get back.

BACI e ABBRACCI

J


back at the fortress in assisi, just wanted to remind you.