Scottish Adventures

After a VERY long week of exams,
a stressful working of the
Italian transportation system,
and an hour and a half
delay that no Italian attendant
felt was important to tell us passengers,
I finally boarded my plane to
Edinburgh.

Now, what is in Edinburgh?
To be honest, I had no clue as I
walked onto that plane, chose
an aisle seat next to two lively
Scotsmen.
All I knew was that at the end
of this 2 hour 40 minute flight,
Christofer would be waiting for me
at the airport.
And that was motivation enough for
me to get on that plane.

Before I write of our lovely reunion,
I have a question for you.
Have you ever flown at night?
When you look through that tiny window
that obviously needs a good cleaning
with Windex, you'll see what looks like
a million stars lying on the ground.
Its breathtaking.
Even the weathered traveler has
to take a peek at the sight,
because how often do you get
to see a view from 30,000 ft?

Now. Wherever you have traveled
that has allowed you to experience this,
I GUARANTEE
that the view was not as
beautiful, spectacular,
and not as breathtaking as the
one you get as you fly over Scotland.
 Let me explain to you why.

So, if you will remember,
it had been a long day of traveling
and 2 exams and I was about ready
for a little cat nap.
But, somehow I stayed awake,
probably because I hate planes so much.
too high in the air.
anyway, so I decided to look over my
two row-mates to the window.
And this is the best description of what I saw.

A golden river of light.

It weaved through the landscape of
hills and mountains.
There was practically no light
away from the main stream,
so it can't even be compared to the
'stars' I had seen on other flights.
 And while flying over america i saw
bright whites, near blue hues.
Over Scotland the lights were only gold.
And they flowed between the
large dark spaces of hills was amazing.
I really can't explain it here.
So I guess you'll just have to
take a night flight over Scotland
if you want to know first hand
what I'm talking about.

Overall, I guess that was a pretty
good entrance into Scotland.
Besides the fact that the landing
was the most terrifying experience
I've ever hand on a plane.
Let's just say we hit turbulence
as we were approaching the landing strip
and as we were landing.

It didn't really matter what the landing
was like, as long as I got there.
So I raced down the stairs from the plane,
got packed into a shuttle,
escaped into the luggage pick up,
raced through passport check and customs,
and walked out of the gate to be
promptly attacked by Christofer.
With hugs, of course.

Next we left the airport in, what else,
but a double decker bus into the
City Center.
And as I arrived in the "New Town" of Edinburgh,
I realized this trip was much more than
just a vacation to visit the boyfriend.

First off: New Town is older than the
United States.
Secondly: they also have Old Town,
whose most prominent feature is a giant
medieval castle.

When you think of a castle,
what you see is pretty much the
castle in Edinburgh.
Big looming stone building,
teetering on the edge of a
mountain that has a sheer cliff on one
side,
and a thing the Scots call the Royal Mile
on the other.
This is just a road that leads from the
Queen's castle at the bottom of a hill
to the castle that sits at the top of it.
Our enthusiastic Australian Tour Guide
informed us that the Scots made
their mile that exact length,
.8 more than the English mile,
just to annoy the English who travel there.

So, we romped around Scotland.
Two of Chris's friends from Dundee
came and joined us.
Jeff and Wendy.
They are both from China.
It was fun talking to them
and getting their views of America.

Soon enough we left the freezing
and raining city of Edinburgh
for the drizzling and freezing
city of Dundee.

For you Carolinians out there,
Dundee looks remarkably like Columbia.
Gray buildings, gray streets,
everything coated over with
a nice layer of depression.
The outskirts of the city,
like the giant hill known as the Law,
are quite nice.
As is the landscape around Dundee,
with the rolling green hills and
plentiful amounts of Scottish sheep.

A note on these sheep:
they are adorable.
compared to our American giants,
they are cute, little, fluffy versions
that i wanted to jump off the bus
and steal, but I figured my parents
wouldn't like the addition to the family...

So, about Dundee.
They have bars, and a casino,
and more bars, and a club or two,
have i mentioned bars?
they come in several nationalities
and are scattered throughout the city.
I'll speak of one in particular: The Globe.

It was my first and favorite Scottish
pub we went too.
It was a very educational experience.
I realized I like Guinness
and that it tastes like coffee.
I also watched a Manchester
United game and other people
around me also cared about it.
it was amazing.

A last tidbit about this weekend
is about the location of Dundee.
Its on the "tay".
which either means river, or
bay, or inlet, or something
to do with the fact that it is located
near the mixing of a river and the ocean.
Thus is beautiful, but its location
also causes a fun effect when a
storm is coming in.
the mixing water gets rougher.
so, when you boyfriend talks
you into going for a walk
near the water on a night
when a storm is beginning to roll in:
reconsider.
else you will end up covered in sea water,
wet, cold, and a little bit cranky.
Lucky for me,
I decided to date a boy
who loves that weather.

Overall,
Scotland was fun.
Definitely worth going back too,
especially since I only saw two cities.
And I still have to go hunt down Nessie.

Strolling in Firenze

A lot of people have asked me
what florence is like.
and italy.
and this is the best way
i can find to tell you.
i'm going to show you.

Let's take a walk through Firenze.


Take a step out of my apartment
and you'll be greeted by a different scene
depending on the time you open
the large green, bulky entrance door.
If you are unfortunate enough to,
like me, have 8 am classes,
you'll meet delivery trucks
and rushed italians making their way
to work.
You simply join this small stream of people,
follow them,
past yet more deliver trucks,
and shop keepers,
find more people,
take a left at the magazine stand,
walk past tempting shoe shops
and small bars serving pastries,
until, finally,
you get dumped into Piazza Strozzi.

The Lorenzo de'Medici classrooms
are located in Palazzo Strozzi.
Palazzo. Palace.
this place is huge.
and we are lucky enough
to be on the 3rd floor of 4.
unfortunately,
that's Italian floors.
we are on the 4th floor.
with little half floors in between
the regular floors.
that's 94 stairs.
every morning.
at 8 am.
then later again that day.

...

let's just say.
I AM NOT taking an 8 am
when i get back to Clemson.
and i am certainly getting
tons of exercise between
the stairs and the constantly
walking across the city at least 4 times a day.

ok. so remember what i said
about the time of day
makes a huge difference on
who you will encounter?
we've gone over early morning,
let's try the walk to my noon mythology class.

First of all.
when leaving
past the hour of 10 am
and before 10 pm,
give yourself at least an extra 5-10 minutes.
you'll see why.

So, once again,
as soon as you open that
large, green, cumbersome door,
you are greeted by a mass mob of...
of...
TOURISTS.
with not a free cobblestone to see.
if you are really unlucky,
you'll see the characteristic
flower, umbrella, sign, or stick
that signifies the most evil
of hinderances in firenze:
tour groups.

now, the tour group is a whole
other creature entirely.
while a couple freelance
tourists are easily dodged and
handled;
a tour group is a giant,
monstrous mob of sidewalk-street
hoggers, picture tackers,
and souvenir gogglers.

while the group is made of individuals,
NEVER, i say never,
forget the fact that they are
one group.
so, when one happens to be crossing the street,
to reach Dante's house on the other side,
and you must go through it,
this is the best advice i can give,
from first hand experience of course:

first: ride your face of all emotions.
things like kindness will not help you here.
second: keep your bag close and put out your elbows.
any extra room gained will help you navigate
the river of living creatures.
and lastly: you must attempt the crossing at a fast pace.
if you try to lazily stroll through them,
you might as well take a seat and wait for
the migration to end.
i'm not saying it has to be a running start,
i think a mall walk or
a "i'm late to apertivo hour" walk
will do just fine.

now, if you thought the mobs
of history ravenous tourists was your
only concern at mid day,
you are wrong.
very, very wrong.
while the movements of distracted
foreigners is the most annoying thing
you can find in firenze,
it is not the most dangerous.
that belongs to the speedy,
seemingly careless, dangerous,
creatures in white.

may i introduce: the taxi.

taxis in firenze are white.
only white.
no other color.
and they have an orange taxi sign on top.
they seem pretty normal.
but the european cousins of our
eccentric yellow american vehicles
are not normal.

they appear to have no regard for
the laws of the road,
how big the road is,
if there is people in the road,
or even using the road.
more than once have i almost
been hit by one of these
things while they go up on the sidewalk
to avoid one of those tour groups
or even a parked delivery truck.
these things are nasty.
period.

while we're talking about driving,
there are no traffic laws in italy.
i'm convinced.
people park everywhere.
they drive everywhere.
the mopeds have free rain
of the entire city.

so, needless to say,
if you must venture out at the
noon hour,
keep your wits about you.
because you could find yourself
being corralled in the wrong direction
then stuffed into the tiny church of dante
with fifty other people.
or worse,
you could find youself on
the hood of a taxi.

finally, one last time
i must tell you about.
8 pm - 5 am.

i know, this is a long time.
but you'll see about the same thing.
and thats drunkards.
lots of them.
mostly american students
who don't have to worry about the
21 drinking age anymore.

so, when you open your heavy front door
at 10, about to head out on
an impromptu gelato run,
you are greeting by yells
and singing.
as you step into the night,
and round the corner from borgo dei greci,
you see them.
scattered along the road in small
to large groups,
all talking much louder than necessary.
there are also the groups of european
looking men also dotting the street.
these are the albanians.

now, if you remember my post
about the night club,
for some reason albanian men
go around pretending to be italian,
or at least not telling you they are from
Albania.
and they are everywhere at night.
so, you're bound to at least run into a few
of them on your walk to get gelato.

other than that,
you'll meet a musician or two,
a drunken serenader,
and countless other amusing persons.
if you ever get the chance to visit firenze,
take a stroll at night.
you'll be highly entertained.


so, folks, in the end:
if you want to meet the local italians,
you'll have to venture aways from the tourist attractions.
get yourself completely lost.
if you want to avoid tourists,
don't come to firenze.
if you want to get gelato at night,
expect some interesting encounters.

italy is many different things.
it just depends when you are out and about.

Wiesn 2010

Now. 

How many of you

understand the title?

Not many I would think.

Well, Wiesn is the

same thing as
Oktoberfest.

Its just what the

Germans call it.

...

So, if the Germans

don't call it Oktoberfest,

where did it get that 

funky spelling and who

started calling it that?

oh well.

I guess I'll have to go

back and ask

some Germans.

So, Oktoberfest.

It was a blast.

Let's just say,

it wasn't what i was expecting.

I didn't even like beer.

which made me wonder why

in the world i was on

that overnight 8 hour 

bus ride to begin with.

but it was too late at that

point, because we

were already well into

the Alps of Austria 

at that point.

On the glorious first morning

of Oktoberfest, 

my roommates and i trekked through

streets covered with lederhosen. 

and dirndls.

we made a typical rookie mistake:

DO NOT WATCH THE PARADE.

while the horses and outfits were nice,

by the time it was over 

we were stuck with standing

instead of sitting at the

beer gardens.

these things really fill up quickly.

and the people don't move.

they literally sit there and

drink all day long.

so if you miss your chance 

to grab a seat,

you might not get one.

so. rule 1:

first thing you do is 

go to a beer tent and

get yourself a table.

by the way,

they are not really tents.

more like giant temporary gymnasiums

of beer and music and singing.

So, saturday was spent

walking, and walking,

and a little more walking.

we ended up heading to the center

because we couldn't get 

into a beer hall.

so we found ourselves a nice

little, random, mexican restaurant 

in Munich just in time for happy

hour. 

i got a pina colada. 

and nachos. 

which was amazing

after weeks of pasta.

Now, since we learned

our lesson the first day,

on Sunday we went straight

into a beer house, Augustiner,

and found ourselves a table

near three guys in german hats.

After about 15 minutes of 

just sitting next to them

talking while they played

cards, they invited us to join.

Lance, Ash, and Jordan.

the first two were kiwis,

from New Zealand,

the last was born in Scotland 

but lived in New Zealand. 

They were highly entertaining

and kept the table lively.

soon enough Ora, from Israel,

joined our group. 

And with her came Steven from Munich,

a local who explained to me

what all the German meant

and that taking a stein from the

beer hall was perfectly normal.

So, we sat in that beer hall

from 9:30 till 2:20. 

Talking, laughing,

singing, playing cards,
talking to the old German

men behind us, 

and drinking.

Turns out German beer

is pretty good. 

Oh, and the giant pretzels.

those were amazing.

After 5 hours of merriment,

we had to go or risk being late

for our bus home at 3.

We bid farewell to our new

fairly drunk friends

and headed off into the chaos

that is Wiesn.

After buying nuts, a bratwurst, and

a glass boot,

we made our way through the 

crowd and met up with our group.

We reached the bus by 3:20,

where we proceeded to wait.

and wait.

and wait.

and yes, wait some more. 

There were some members of our 

group that had decided to 

drink so much that they couldn't 

remember they had to leave

or weren't coherent enough

to be able to tell time.

the groups leaders found them and

brought them back to the bus.

we left at 5.

let's just say the sentiments

on the bus towards those 5 girls

were not good.

Having slept the entire way to
Germany, I decided to 

make myself stay up on the way back.

And it was worth it.

The Alps were beautiful.

the landscape of germany, austria,

and northern italy was 

breathtaking.

there were even

random castles dotting the scenery

as we worked our way south.

At the early hour of 1:30

we arrived in Firenze.

tired, in need of showers,

with still a walk from the bus stop

across the city,

past the Duomo,

to our home. 

So, i returned to italy with four

things from the 200th Wiesn 

in Germany:

an experience at Dachau worth a thousand words.

a lovely burgundy/cranberry Bavarian hat.

a stein from Augustiners.

and a new appreciation for Beer.

i think my father will rather like the last one. :]

Walking into History

The small suburb of
Wolfrathausen was our
first stop and
the home of our
residence for the
next few days.

The town was adorable.
the hotel staff
were extremely nice
the breakfast at the hotel
was a divine mixture
of meat, cheese, rolls,
hot tea, eggs, coffee,
and different assortments
of jam and jellies.

Our room was nearly bigger
than our apartment in italy.
It had a loft,
which was pretty snazzy.
And they had a tiny
tv, that we got
to watch german shows
and soccer on.
It was a good place
to go back to after
such a packed weekend.

So, we arrived early morning
in the center of Munich.
It was chilly.
The wind didn't help any
and the only thing i
kept thinking was
that i was glad i didn't
sign up for the bike
tour around Munich:
since it was freezy,
it was lightly raining,
and we didn't sleep much
on that stupid bus.

So, instead, me and
my roommates headed out
to Dachau for the day.
it didn't take much to work
the German transportation system
and before we knew it we
arrived at the Third Reich's
first concentration camp.

It was eerie.
it was gray.
everywhere.
the ground, the sky, the buildings.
looking around
you couldn't help
thinking of the people
who were forced into labor
and died where you looked,
or even where you stood.

the two places that were the hardest
were the "bunker"
and the crematory

the bunker was the prison block.
complete with torture rooms,
medical experiments,
standing cells,
and solitary confinement.
all of which you could walk into,
besides the standing cells.
they were taken down
for some reason by the american
soldiers who liberated the camp.

as some might think,
not all concentration camps were
extermination camps like Auschwitz
Dachau was there for labor
in the armory industry.
but plenty died in their crematory
and fake showers that were
really the gas chambers.
and in the gardens around it,
there were the many graves
of the ashes found.


while the camp can simply
be described as haunting,
gray, and depressing,
i would suggest those of you
fortunate to make it to Munich
to stop by Dachau.

It was really an amazing experience
to be able to walk into a place
you've read about in a history book.
even one so difficult to face
as a concentration camp.

Courses and Accordions

So.
After my first full week of classes,
this is what i have to say:

why is there so much work?

I mean, come on guys.
I understand this is still school.
We are college students after all,
working towards our degrees that
half of us won't use in the
real world anyway.
But we're also American students
studying abroad in Italy.
Who knows if we'll ever
make it back to Europe.
We want to travel,
not spend our weekends
in the library writing paper after paper.

...

Oh well.
No use complaining
to an online blog.

Overall the classes look interesting.
I might actually even
read the required reading.
Something, that in the past,
I have let slip somewhat.

I think the most interesting
thing about my classes
are the way that they're
taught.

The first half we have lecture.
We have a short break
and then we go out into
Florence, and see
the things the teachers
have been talking about.
So i'll learn about the Medici
family homes,
then go visit them.
I'll learn about the Santa Croce
Quarter of Florence,
then go visit the quarter I
live in,
on the way learning anything
of historical significance
from a very eccentric professor.

Speaking of my quarter of Florence,
Santa Croce,
named for the Church that can
be found just down the street
 from my apartment;
it is very lively.

My neighbors are the Duomo,
and the Palazzo Vecchio.
And how could we forget
the famed Uffizi Gallery,
with its halls of renaissance
artwork and its street
of vendors, modern day artists,
statue-impersonators, and
my favorite, musicians.

And here is where
the accordions come in.

Almost every night,
we have this elderly man walk
down Borgo dei Greci,
teetering with the weight of
his instrument strapped
to his chest.
he settles down midway through the street,
almost directly under our window,
and begins his song.

For the past two weeks,
he has yet to change
this song.
Which is alright with me.
Its beautiful
and its at those moments that
it really hits home that
i'm in Italy.
I promise you
sometimes it still feels like a dream.

And our elderly Accordion man
isn't our only musician serenading us.
We have had guitarists,
clarinetists, an entire band once,
and even this guy playing
some weird steel drum like
instrument that makes the most
interesting sound.

The nights are rarely quite
near the Santa Croce.
Either its music or
the drunken songs of
Italians, Australians,
Americans, or any other nationality
working their way back to
their apartments after
a night of drinking and friendship.

And these ballads don't stop early.
and they occur every day.
even Sunday nights there
is yelling and laughing coming
from the cobble stoned streets
of Borgo dei Greci.

Apparently its very loud
as the noise echoes and intensifies
off the stone and cement walls
till it reaches our floor.
I am lucky.
I sleep like the dead.
My roommates are troubled
by the noise though,
so I hope it calms down
once peak tourist season is over.

although I rather doubt it.
Students will still be here,
studying, partying, traveling.
And I personally hope the
music doesn't stop.
I'm particularly fond of our
personal concerts every evening.

and even now, at 2:10 pm,
a trumpet player is practicing his skills
for us to enjoy.

And while I pray the noise goes away with the tourists,
I hope the musicians of Florence never
leave or cease to use the old,
cracking buildings of the
Santa Croce quarter
for their amplifiers.

Their songs weaving their
way through the Tuscan night
is a small portion of La Bella Vita.
The beautiful life.
the life that i am trying
so desperately to find
while on my 4 months
stay in Italia.

E per te

is a song by Jovanotti.
An italian artist.
It's quite a good song and
the first time I heard it was in
my 102 Italian class.
It means "Is for You"

Well, it seems like a lot of Italy is for me.
Let us start with the food.

It is simply amazing.
and i'm not exaggerating.
i'll admit, some places suck.
like, Brioso in Clemson, SC
is better.
but other places,
there's just no comparisson.
And one such place is
Vivoli.

Now, on one of our eating excursions
early on,
because we were still on the hunt
of a grocery store,
me and my roommates went out to eat
at a restaurant in a side alley.
Overall experience, bad.

The server clearly didn't think highly of
us stopping by his establishment.
The pork chop was dry.
the Lasagna was amazing though.
and we did meet two very entertaining Australians.

These two were visiting Italy from Melbourne
and soon enough we got into a lively chat with
the colorful characters from down under.

The lady began a ballad of their love story.
How they had met and dated in high school,
and the man gave her a gold ring
then promptly broke her heart
and dumped her.
They both seemingly moved on
only to find each other 50 years later in life.
At this point in time they ditched their lives
and began again with each other.

Lovely story, non?
but I have to say the best thing the
Australians gave us was where
to find the best gelato in the city.
They claimed they had been there
every night since arriving.
So, later that evening we went looking
for the elusive Vivoli.

Down the street and
take a right onto a back alley
and you're there.

when you walk in,
its seems like a normal
gelato stand.
UNTIL, you look around.
Then you notice something is wrong.

Where are the cameras?
the flip flops?
the tacky "I LOVE ITALIA" shirts?
Where are the americans and tourists?

This is how good this place is.
Its all Italians.
and select few of us
outsiders that have stumbled upon the place.

I would definitely say that
Vivoli is for me.

As i'm finding out,
much of Italy is for me.
The fanaticism of soccer
the art of the cuisine
the beauty of the streets
but i can't just focus on myself
especially since much of my time
is spent thinking about
others.

Of course,
all over the place I see things
that remind me of other people.
So here is my little segment of

e per te.

is for you.

Let's start out with family,
shall we?

First off,
every time I look up at the sky
i think of my father.
Dadu would love this weather.
Its been absolutely gorgeous.
With cool, perfect mornings
for running and walking "the pack"

My mother would love it here.
There's a church on every single corner.
Not to mention,
all the lovely religious history and
paintings and such
scattered across Firenze.
and she would definitely love
buying me things at all the stalls
along the way :]

The art, history, and
just about every aspect of
this marvelous city remind me of
my darling elder sister.
and i'm sure we'll get into plenty
of mischeif when she comes to
visit in Thanksgiving.

Now, I'll have to stop here.
Because although I'm in a foreign land,
and everything around me is so different,
and sometimes overwhelming,
these same differences
are constantly reminding me of people
and places back home.

And I could go on forever,
listing every dear friend
and every single detail
of my new life abroad
that reminds me of them
... but it is getting late.
and I'm a bit tired.

so I'll leave it as this,
as the singer on the
ponte vecchio put it
last night:

e per te.
è per te tutta questa città
è per te ogni cosa che c'è

for you less italian inclined:

is for you.
is for you throughout this city
is for you everything you need

thank you jovanotti.
you give me hope that
i might yet find  what i need
in this city:

the good kind of chicken ramen.

Buona Notte

Or good night.
well, tonight was good.
and very educational.

Around the early hour of 8 pm,
my roommates and I received an invitation
to a birthday bash of a friend.
so we got ready,
and headed down to the duomo.

I was looking quite italian.
in a dashing black shirt and
stylish blue, orange, purple, and green scarf.
and yes, i was joking about looking italian.
still sticking out here in the land of vino e gelato.

Anyway, we went on down to the duomo
and met up with the group.
we then proceeded to the bar
where we 'pre-gamed'

now, for all of you who are not familiar with the term
'pre-game' means to buy drinks at a cheaper bar or
liquor store before hitting the main event of the night
which will most likely have expensive beverages.
and, being Young Americans in a foreign land,
it seems like buying a drink is one of the steps
into becoming the ever elusive "fluent florentine"

so, i bought my first alcoholic beverage.
it was a long island iced tea.
now, i've had a sip of one
back in the good old US of A
and it was pretty good.

in italy though,
it was terrible.
let's just say, pretty much pure alcohol.
so, let me run it down for you:
rum, gin, vodka, and cola.
i had about 6 1/2 sips and
i said no more.

After this first time experience,
with me making a mental note
never to get a long island iced tea
in italy again,
we proceeded to the main event.

A club called Space.
yet there was anything but space
in the entire establishment
because it was packed full of american women
and italian men.
oh, and a few american men and italian women
thrown in there.
but mostly, it was american women
and creepy italian men.
and yes ladies, there was not a cute one in sight.

Ok. So i'll be honest.
I'm not one for physical interaction.
never was, and never will be.
(well, unless your name is christofer.)

so today's dance rave of tightly
holding onto your partner
while grinding down to the beat
just doesn't do it for me.

So i spent an hour or two dancing
in the space near my two roommates,
dodging the men looking for dance partners.
there was plenty of "Non Grazie" and "Non ballo" (dance)

There was one very good quality about this club.
They played the black eyed peas.
so that was fun.
i got to sing and dance and jump around.

overall, it was a good night.
My only wish is that they
would make sweet tea
instead of long island iced tea.
Oh well. I'm sure I'll find something I like to drink.
Maybe I'll try a Guinness next time.
Maybe beer instead of little fruity drinks
is the way to go.

I don't know.
Idk
Je ne sais pas.
Non lo sol.

so. i guess all i have left to say is good night.
or as the italians say it,

Buona Notte.