Let's see, let's see...
This past weeks since spring break have been all about Italy. Florence and Rome to be specific. After Greece had depleted my funds, there was ample reason to hang around. Jackie came and left, then Laura and her mom. That same Laura came, Bryan's family came as well. It was a slightly hectic week, with alot of school work, and me dividing my time between Bryan's family and Laura and her mom. But it was very fun and awsome to have visitors. Lots of good going-out-to-eat experiences. I even tried the.... Florentine Steak. It's very expensive, but if you come to Italy, it's worth the splurge. Tuscany doesn't really specialize in seafood - for the obvious reason that it is not exactly on the ocean. But what Tuscany does specialize in are things like boar, pork and beef. Gamey kind of meats too. Florentine steak is cut super thick - about an inch and a half piece after being cooked. It's very very tender - and cooked very rare. Which is the way I like my beef, wouldn't you know. And if you don't really care for it that rare, eat it anyway. That's how they do things here, and they should know how to best eat their own specialites. It's funny to think I didn't eat meat for over two years and now I'm eating a huge slab of meat. Not that I eat meat often here -- I'm on a budget and even chicken is pricey.
But... Easter is comming and I'm making an Easter dinner for our friends who will be around. Bryan and I are leaving for Barcelona later today, will spend tonight there, Friday night, and come back Saturday night. This way we will be back for the apparently off-the-hizzy Florence Easter celebrations. I'm very excited for that - I'm even getting dressed up and going to mass. Anyway, so I'm making dinner with my friends. My friend Nick, (who is the designated fabulous cook amoung all those boys) went to Sant Ambrogio market, which is in the Santa Croce area and right near our apt. They have the cheapest stuff at the best quality; restaurant owners shop there in the morning for their chefs. We bought lots of potatoes, pecorino cheese, herbs, wonderful - wonderful bread!, and of course - lamb. We got a whole leg of lamb with chops, and more ribs with chops. It's funny to see the meat all whole like. The butcher just smiled and chopped it up into usable pieces. Everything was very clean there too. I love the vendors at that market - they are always so happy and generous. If you try and speak a little italian, or just be friendly and make an effort, they always through in a couple of extra onions, or an extra chop or wedge of cheese.
So after our market excursion, I went and bought one of those giant easter eggs. In Italy, the Easter Egg is just shy of a foot tall. Lots of companies make them, including Kinder and Lindt. But the best ones are make my small sweet shops and bakeries - they are more pricey though. They come in gauzey or papper wrapping, all sorts of spring colors, and are tied with ribbon or straw. Because B and I are away from our Easter Bunnies, I'm playing the Easter Bunny and I got the B a big old milk chocolate egg. They are hollow and have prizes inside, I'm pretty pumped to see what's in this one.
Next weekend we're flying to Paris to meet the folks and whole family.
Looking forward to seeing Mom and Dad, Emmie and Conor, Jane and Uncle Jim, Matt, Ian and Renee. Phew! After we depart Paris, Renee and Ian will join everyone here in Florence. The whole crew is renting a villa near Fiesole, so it should be fun. I can't immagine Italy is ready for my incredibly 'joyous' familia.
Got to go! Work on AutoCAD to do.
R
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Rachel and Jackie's Great Greek Adventure I
Okay, take a deep breath, becaues this is gonna be a long one.
Jackie came to visit me for my spring break. Everyone was out of Florence on their respective trips by the time she came to visit so we had the apt to ourselves. When she got in, we ran around and climbed up to San Minato, the beautiful 12th century chruch that overlooks all of Florence. We ended the day with a very delicious but salty dinner at Quattro Leoni - one of our local faves. (Anthony Hopkins, Dustin Hoffman and Athony Kiedus, among lots of others, have all eaten there!) We ended up rebooking a hotel in Mykonos, as I got an email saying it was closed for the season. So we took care of that and hit the hay.
Day 1
Then the next day, Sunday: El Grecco Trip commenced. We got up before dawn, while the preivous' nights festivities were slowly dying away. Our taxi ride there was with a cute, old italian (shocker) man driver. I said I spoke a little Italian, and he responded, in italian of course, that there was no need to learn the language -- just find a native Florentine boyfriend to become your translator! Before we left for the airport, Jackie had gotten a leg squeeze and me cheek pinch.
In the airport, we decided to get breakfast. I ordered a cappucino and croissant (cornetto in italian) and Jackie opted for a true Jackie breakfast: chocolate coated and filled croissant, and um... one of those pretty drinks on that poster on the wall. She asked for one of these crazy looking coffee conconctions, and the cashier looked at her dubiously. She then shrugged and had the barista brew up whatever the hell she ordered. When it came, it looked fab - all chocolately, coffee, and whip cream. Turns out it was filled with strong liquor, hence the reason why the cashier looked so befuddled at Jackie's order. She was ordering a super strong alcoholic bev at like 6 in the morning. What a wake up call.
Our flights went well, despite the fact that Alitalia women flight attendents are absolute meanies, and decided to ignore us when they were handing out little baked cakes as snacks. We were both very upset about this. We had a layover in Rome, and finally, around 1 arrived in Athens. We goofed around for awhile, found our luggage, and found the kiosk to ask how the hell we got into downtown athens. The lady there looked at the address of our hotel, and told us it was so far away, it was off the Athens map. We had to take the 95 bus to Syntagma Square, then take some trolly or whatever or get a cab. Fabo.
So we climbed on the shuttle and got to Syntagma Square. I swear, all those Greek letters threw me off. I don't know what I expected, but that I then understood the expression "it's all greek to me!" As soon as we deboarded the shuttle, we were harassed by some cabbie. He said he'd give us a deal - Acropolis, Angora, other sites, and a ride to the hotel for 50 euro total. We felt we were getting scammed, so we opted just for a ride to the Acropolis. He didn't have a meter in his car, and we thusly then learned, if you don't wanna get ripped off in Athens, get in a car with a meter. At some point in our trip, Jackie and I concured that it was Mercedes Taxis that always ripped you off and didn't have meters, and the non Mercedes taxis were safe ones. We spent our last day in Athens scouring for non-Mercedes taxis. In retrospect, this seems ridiculous.
The Acroplis was mighty cool. I stole a rock to give to Bryan, and I got yelled at for taking off my shoes. It was very warm and the sun was exceptionally bright. We hung out here for an hour or so, and then decided to find our hotel. We talked to this bus driver, he told us his bus, the 230, went to Syntagma Square -- where we needed to take the trolley to our hotel. He was really nice, and let us ride for free. Well, Jackie and I climbed aboard. The bus left, and after about an hour, we got nervous. Did we miss our stop? Where the hell were we? The bus was too crowded to ask the driver where the hell we were. Finally, about an hour and a half later, the bus stopped. The bus driver came back, and said "Ladies, you missed your stop! This is the end of the line. Oh, ladies ladies..." He then told us he would let us know, on the return trip, when we would exactly get off. So we rode the 230 bus route once more. When we got to Syntagma Square, our driver stood up, (mind you the bus was packed) and yelled in English "This is your stop girls! Make sure you go other side street! Other side!" It was slightly embarassing, but Jackie and I thanked him profusely, and got off, and crossed the street to the trolley ticket kiosk.
An old man saw us looking at a map. He asked if he could help in English, and we of course shouted "Yes! Thanks!" We started babling, and he got all confused and said "Err... I no know!" So we asked the kiosk dude. While we were buying our tickets, that old Greek guy said "American? I went to Texas once!"
With two trolley tickets, we were on our way. Or so we thought. Flash forward to an hour later. We are on the number three trolley, but something doesn't look right. It looks like we're going back towards the airpot, away from Athens. I ask the driver, and low and behold, we're going the oppostite direction. We get off at the next stop, and feel utterly stranded with our huge backpacks. We finally decided to call a cab. Turns out the cab ride to our hotel was a measly 3 euro. All that effort just to save a few bucks, which we didn't even end up really saving.
Our hotel was nice. Jackie and I complained how the lights didn't work though -- we took showers in the dark. We marched right downstairs and exclaimed to the greek boy working that our lights were out! We had no electricity! Perplexed, he climbed the two flights of stairs to our room, then just plugged our hotel card key into this slot on the wall. Turns out, in Greece, you have to plug in your card to get the lights on. We felt like idiots, but learned something that would be valuable in every other hostel/hotel on the trip.
Dinner was stinky. We could only find coffebars. Coffeebars on the left, coffebars on the right. People sipping fancy frozen cocktails and coffees. It was around 8, and we wanted some grub! We found a place that looked restauranty, and discovered we were the only ones eating dinner in the entire place. I orderd "lightly fried little fish" for dinner. Turns out, it was a heaping, (And I mean heaping) plate of fried sardines. MMMMMMMMM! I can handle a few of those little guys, but like, 2 dozen! The salad was good though - Greeks make a mean Greek salad. The old people in the restuarant kept glaring at us. I heard mutters of "Americani." Do they think we can't understand that? Honestly. We decided upon a crepe for dessert, because I was def not satisfied. We split the crepe, then rolled into bed.
Day 2
We took a cab to Syntagma Sq., and boarded the 95 shuttle to the airport without a hiccup. We made our flight to Santorini, and all was well. We got there, unboarded, and stepped onto the beautiful island. The waters were this deep azzure blue, the land super hilly, craggy, dry and green, and the wind was whipping everywhere. We again were harassed by a taxi driver, (in yet another Mercedes taxi!) gave him the address of our hostel, Casa Fracesca, located in Oia, the smaller town in Santorini, and headed off. The roads to this tiny town were so windy and frightening. One side: craggy mountain. The other side, sheer drop off into the sea. Lots of blind turns, no guardrails, and torrential wind. We made it though. Our cabbie dropped us off on this desolate road, said, walk 30 meters that way, and there you'll be. He left.
Well, let me tell you, we couldn't find this Casa Francesca. No one was around... it was like a ghostown. No signs, no people, nothing. I then realized I left our conformation sheet in the cab. But I did remember that on the sheet it said "To get the key to Casa Francesca, go to the Oia bus terminal and ask for the key." Yea - a little bizzare, very strange. I was shocked little Oia would even have a bus terminal. So Jackie and I hitched up our backpacks, and walked down the little road. We finally found the 'terminal'. It consisted of a small convenince store, a gyro shop, a closed tourist office/internet cafe, some benches and about 8 dogs. We asked eveyone we could if they had the key to Casa Francesca, and you can immagine how strange this sounded. No one had any idea. Jackie and I, of course, bickered, and slumped on the benches in exasperation. Where would we stay? We were a good 12 km from the main port of Fira, where would be our best shot at finding a place to crash. I pet one of the dogs, and then the whole fleet of them came over to us. All eight dogs just laid at our feet, and lounged about.
Just then, this couple walks by. Oh my, people! The woman looks at us, smiles, and says "Looks like you have quite a bit of dogs around you!" in this great Austrailian accent. We were so relieved they spoke fluent English - we hadn't really met many Santorinians who did. We explained our situation, and they offered us a ride in the rental car back to Fira. We took up the offer, and they gave us a ride back to Fira. Bruce and his wife were awful nice -- they were from the outback in Australia, and they were vactioning here in Greece, and in Spain. They left us at the Donna Villas, where they had stayed. Bruce gave us there card to show to the guy at the villas, and told us to ask him if they had any reduced price rooms, or if they could recoomend any. We thanked them, and they drove off to return their car and catch their flight home. Jackie and I set off to find Donna Villas, and low and behold.... we couldn't find them! Are you surprised?
So Jackie and I continued our trudging. We trudged down the hill into Fira, looking quite dejected. It was getting dusky now. After about ten minutes or so, this guy jumps out from this rent-a-car joint and shouts, "Ladies, what can I do for you?" We looked at each other - are you kidding? Just what we need, some creepy Greek guy. Turns out he was just trying to help. His name was George -- he looked like an older, not as attractive Johnny Depp, with long, brownish hair. We explained our situation, he made a call, and a hotel shuttle came to pick us up. Hotel Magharitta was wicked cheap, (30 euro for a double per night) clean (even if the hallway smelt like stale cigarettes and the door got stuck), with a gorgeous view and free breakfast.
That evening, we walked to a local restaurant, and enjoyed a delicious meal. Greek salad with fabulous feta, mousakka ( a greek specialty of baked lamb, potato, eggplant and cheese dish) wine, bread and fried zuchinnis. Apostolis, our waiter, liked that we tried to speak Greek (Thank you, etc.). He brought us out complimentary shots of this Greek Poison at the end of the meal that apparently 'aids in digestion'. It tasted like licorice fire, and we were supposed to sip it. To be polite, Jackie and I drank it, and kept washing it down with the dregs of our wine. Everytime I took a sip I shook. The little cat in the restaurant offered some distraction from the Greek Poison, however. She lived there and just mewed for pieces of our food. She had some problem with her head, the waiter said. It was permanently cocked to one side. Anyway, just when we finished our drinks, Apostolis asked if we'd like another. We, politely, declined. Just our luck, he came up with another round of the so dubbed 'Greek Poison.' Some how we got that down, paid our bill, bid goodbye to Apostolis, and called it a night.
Day 3
Jackie and I awoke to a wonderfully clear, bright, day in Fira. We decided to go down and ret a car from George. Bruce and his wife mentioned a car rental is only 25 euros - you get to see the whole island with it too. So we did just this, and we got hooked up with a lime green Fiat. The engine must have been the size of a thimbul. I drove, and Jackie didn't do stick, and we headed off for some gas. We rolled down the windowns, and crusied around the windy turns, looking for the beaches that George had suggested. For some reason, I thought we should go up this ridiculous hill (remember, when I say hill, I mean mountain. Santorini used to be made of active volcanoes, so the 'hills' are just ancient voclano cones. ) . Half-way up the hill we realized our little Fix-It-Again-Tony Fiat just wouldn't make it. I popped it in neutrual and backed down the hill. No matter, we got down safe and cruised off.
Sooner or later we found ourselves on that previously described windy road from Fira to Oia. Riding on it was an experience. Driving on it was something totally different. I would curse at each blind turn, having no idea what was beyond the blind turn ... would there be a car hugging the middle of the road that would turn me off, and down the cliff into the ocean? It was stressful, but we made it Oia, couldn't find anything, and headed back.
Finally, we found our little beach. I desperately had to pee, so I found this old snack shack and went behind it to pee. As I'm squatting, I peer around the corner, and see this white truck approaching. I freaked and pulled up my pants really quick, and got myself together just beofre the truck passed. Apparently I decided to pee right along this dirt road. The driver of the truck passed, looking at me very strangely.
After this, Jack and I laid in the sun for awhile, and took some naps. It was super sunny and nice. The sand was black, and little pumice stones were scattered all along the beach. It was a very peaceful spot. Turns out, we became very burned by the sun - our faces looked like tomatoes.
We then continued on in the Fiat, crusing around, stopping for delcious baklava, and seeing some more beaches. Those kind of beaches where incredibly huge cliffs just crash right down into the sea. Spectactular. Later that afternoon, I decided to tackle another hill.
Rachel: Okay, it says Fira this way, to our right, up this hill.
Jackie: No it doesn't, go straight, it says Fira that way!
Rachel: No, look at it! Too late, we're passed it. I'm going right.
Well, to the right ment a massive hill that we obviously didn't make it up. But this time, there was this little white tinbox behind us yelling at us because I had stalled on the hill. I was juggling the e-brake, trying to stay where we were. The white tinbox got around us, and I attempted to use the same maunver in hill descent we had used earlier. It appeared to be working, until I came really close to this wall, and the back tire got stuck on a step that came into the street from this house that boarded the road. So now we were stuck. I couldn't pull the car up off the step, because the hill was too steap. Jackie got out of the car to inspect the situation.
Jackie: Well, I mean, everytime you start it up and get off the step, you just roll back onto it again.
Rachel: We need to flag someone down.
Jackie: What if I tried to push it off and up the hill?
Rachel: Absolutely not. What if you fell and the car fell back and rolled over you? That would definitely not improve our situation.
Jackie: Everyone that's passing us just stares and looks really weird.
Rachel: Well, I guess you could try pushing. Just shout if something goes wrong. I'll pull the e-brake.
Jackie: Not after what you just told me could happen!
So eventually, we flagged someone down and in one-two-three seconds, he got us unstuck. I guess what it boiled down to what that I am not such a prowess and driving a teensy engine-standard car. We rode back to town to book our ferry passage to Mykonos for the next day. It was the 6th, and our flight back to Athens left from Mykonos on the 8th. Where, in Athens that same day, we'd get the flight back to Florence. Turns out, there were no ferries to Mykonos the next day at all! None! We could leave the next morning, take a 9 HOUR ferry ride to Siros, this island, then leave the next day for Mykonos. Which of course, wouldn't even get us to the island in time for our flight.
Jackie and I, of course, freaked, and went to the airport to see if we could change flights. Turns out we could. We got there too early - the airpot wasn't open yet because it had a 8' o'clock flight, and we were there at 5. It's strange to think of an airport as not being open. Anyway, Jackie and I killed time in the Fiat. We'd have strange contests where we would wait and see whos stomach grumbled first. Sometimes the person who's stomach made noise first would win, sometimes they would lose. It was a very strange game only hungry girls could invent.
We waited till they opened, and switched our flight to leave from Santorini to Athens for the next morning, with no charge. We would just spend another day in Athens. Phew! We returned the car, and tried to find a place George had recommended: El Greco. Turns out they were closed. We walked all around looking for some place to eat. We were in heels, and I don't know if this is rude in Greece or whatever, but some old man spit at us after passed him, and a group of Greek boys shouted "Questo!" (Translation: How much. Yeah, enough said.) We were feeling edgy and hungry, went back to George, and he brought us - himself- to the next door taverna. He was our guardian angel, and the people at this place really took care of us because George gave us the intro. We again had a delcious dinner, and a free extra half caraf of the house barrel wine. I hope the folks at this place didn't think we were tipsy or anything - we were laughing as we always do, and our faces were violently red from our Santorinian sunburn. Hopefully they just looked the other way. Santorini had the nicest people you could meet, even if it was so quiet due to it being it's offseason.
Day 4
The next morning, we caught a 7 am flight back to Athens. By now, we could navigate Athens like a pros (well...er... sort of.) We took a taxi to this local that we had read about in our Greek book, which listed two hotels in the area. They were listed as 1 euro ratings, which meant cheap, and were right near the Acropolis, which is a good area to be in. We found the first hotel and... it was a 4 star get up! All shiny marlble and glass, with men in suits, would cost us 88 euro a night... no way! We packed up, and headed to our next destination. This place was smaller, closer to the Acropolis, and a much nicer price. It was sheer luxury next to Hotel Magharita. That day we relaxed, enjoyed a 'cappucino freddo' like the greeks do at an outdoor coffeebar, saw the Ancient Angora, and did some gift shopping at the nearby markets. We found some funky shops, cool leather sandals, and really great jewelry. This place was much cheaper than Florence. We even found a place for dinner - some old guy gave us the restaurants card.
At dinner, I ordered the 'ocotopus with olive oil and lemon' and Jackie got what was described as "like de meeetbaaalllz" The prices seemed closer too - but more than -- those in Santorini. Turns out they appetizers - the Athens appetizers were more than the price of a Santorini main course. My octopus was squishy and slimy - I thought it may be like calamari. Jackie's 'meatballs' were just like eggplant jalepeno poppers. The salad was fine, but the feta was crumbled, not in a thick square slab on top of the salad like in every other place. Anyway, we were bummed, and decided to hit up a crepe place to make up for it. How can you go wrong with a crepe? Honestly?
We went to bed, watched some CNN in English (quite the treat, I assure you). The next day, we had our flights back home. It went well, but we were zonked when we got back.
Stay tuned for details of the last two nights of Jackie's stay in Florence... to be continued.
Jackie came to visit me for my spring break. Everyone was out of Florence on their respective trips by the time she came to visit so we had the apt to ourselves. When she got in, we ran around and climbed up to San Minato, the beautiful 12th century chruch that overlooks all of Florence. We ended the day with a very delicious but salty dinner at Quattro Leoni - one of our local faves. (Anthony Hopkins, Dustin Hoffman and Athony Kiedus, among lots of others, have all eaten there!) We ended up rebooking a hotel in Mykonos, as I got an email saying it was closed for the season. So we took care of that and hit the hay.
Day 1
Then the next day, Sunday: El Grecco Trip commenced. We got up before dawn, while the preivous' nights festivities were slowly dying away. Our taxi ride there was with a cute, old italian (shocker) man driver. I said I spoke a little Italian, and he responded, in italian of course, that there was no need to learn the language -- just find a native Florentine boyfriend to become your translator! Before we left for the airport, Jackie had gotten a leg squeeze and me cheek pinch.
In the airport, we decided to get breakfast. I ordered a cappucino and croissant (cornetto in italian) and Jackie opted for a true Jackie breakfast: chocolate coated and filled croissant, and um... one of those pretty drinks on that poster on the wall. She asked for one of these crazy looking coffee conconctions, and the cashier looked at her dubiously. She then shrugged and had the barista brew up whatever the hell she ordered. When it came, it looked fab - all chocolately, coffee, and whip cream. Turns out it was filled with strong liquor, hence the reason why the cashier looked so befuddled at Jackie's order. She was ordering a super strong alcoholic bev at like 6 in the morning. What a wake up call.
Our flights went well, despite the fact that Alitalia women flight attendents are absolute meanies, and decided to ignore us when they were handing out little baked cakes as snacks. We were both very upset about this. We had a layover in Rome, and finally, around 1 arrived in Athens. We goofed around for awhile, found our luggage, and found the kiosk to ask how the hell we got into downtown athens. The lady there looked at the address of our hotel, and told us it was so far away, it was off the Athens map. We had to take the 95 bus to Syntagma Square, then take some trolly or whatever or get a cab. Fabo.
So we climbed on the shuttle and got to Syntagma Square. I swear, all those Greek letters threw me off. I don't know what I expected, but that I then understood the expression "it's all greek to me!" As soon as we deboarded the shuttle, we were harassed by some cabbie. He said he'd give us a deal - Acropolis, Angora, other sites, and a ride to the hotel for 50 euro total. We felt we were getting scammed, so we opted just for a ride to the Acropolis. He didn't have a meter in his car, and we thusly then learned, if you don't wanna get ripped off in Athens, get in a car with a meter. At some point in our trip, Jackie and I concured that it was Mercedes Taxis that always ripped you off and didn't have meters, and the non Mercedes taxis were safe ones. We spent our last day in Athens scouring for non-Mercedes taxis. In retrospect, this seems ridiculous.
The Acroplis was mighty cool. I stole a rock to give to Bryan, and I got yelled at for taking off my shoes. It was very warm and the sun was exceptionally bright. We hung out here for an hour or so, and then decided to find our hotel. We talked to this bus driver, he told us his bus, the 230, went to Syntagma Square -- where we needed to take the trolley to our hotel. He was really nice, and let us ride for free. Well, Jackie and I climbed aboard. The bus left, and after about an hour, we got nervous. Did we miss our stop? Where the hell were we? The bus was too crowded to ask the driver where the hell we were. Finally, about an hour and a half later, the bus stopped. The bus driver came back, and said "Ladies, you missed your stop! This is the end of the line. Oh, ladies ladies..." He then told us he would let us know, on the return trip, when we would exactly get off. So we rode the 230 bus route once more. When we got to Syntagma Square, our driver stood up, (mind you the bus was packed) and yelled in English "This is your stop girls! Make sure you go other side street! Other side!" It was slightly embarassing, but Jackie and I thanked him profusely, and got off, and crossed the street to the trolley ticket kiosk.
An old man saw us looking at a map. He asked if he could help in English, and we of course shouted "Yes! Thanks!" We started babling, and he got all confused and said "Err... I no know!" So we asked the kiosk dude. While we were buying our tickets, that old Greek guy said "American? I went to Texas once!"
With two trolley tickets, we were on our way. Or so we thought. Flash forward to an hour later. We are on the number three trolley, but something doesn't look right. It looks like we're going back towards the airpot, away from Athens. I ask the driver, and low and behold, we're going the oppostite direction. We get off at the next stop, and feel utterly stranded with our huge backpacks. We finally decided to call a cab. Turns out the cab ride to our hotel was a measly 3 euro. All that effort just to save a few bucks, which we didn't even end up really saving.
Our hotel was nice. Jackie and I complained how the lights didn't work though -- we took showers in the dark. We marched right downstairs and exclaimed to the greek boy working that our lights were out! We had no electricity! Perplexed, he climbed the two flights of stairs to our room, then just plugged our hotel card key into this slot on the wall. Turns out, in Greece, you have to plug in your card to get the lights on. We felt like idiots, but learned something that would be valuable in every other hostel/hotel on the trip.
Dinner was stinky. We could only find coffebars. Coffeebars on the left, coffebars on the right. People sipping fancy frozen cocktails and coffees. It was around 8, and we wanted some grub! We found a place that looked restauranty, and discovered we were the only ones eating dinner in the entire place. I orderd "lightly fried little fish" for dinner. Turns out, it was a heaping, (And I mean heaping) plate of fried sardines. MMMMMMMMM! I can handle a few of those little guys, but like, 2 dozen! The salad was good though - Greeks make a mean Greek salad. The old people in the restuarant kept glaring at us. I heard mutters of "Americani." Do they think we can't understand that? Honestly. We decided upon a crepe for dessert, because I was def not satisfied. We split the crepe, then rolled into bed.
Day 2
We took a cab to Syntagma Sq., and boarded the 95 shuttle to the airport without a hiccup. We made our flight to Santorini, and all was well. We got there, unboarded, and stepped onto the beautiful island. The waters were this deep azzure blue, the land super hilly, craggy, dry and green, and the wind was whipping everywhere. We again were harassed by a taxi driver, (in yet another Mercedes taxi!) gave him the address of our hostel, Casa Fracesca, located in Oia, the smaller town in Santorini, and headed off. The roads to this tiny town were so windy and frightening. One side: craggy mountain. The other side, sheer drop off into the sea. Lots of blind turns, no guardrails, and torrential wind. We made it though. Our cabbie dropped us off on this desolate road, said, walk 30 meters that way, and there you'll be. He left.
Well, let me tell you, we couldn't find this Casa Francesca. No one was around... it was like a ghostown. No signs, no people, nothing. I then realized I left our conformation sheet in the cab. But I did remember that on the sheet it said "To get the key to Casa Francesca, go to the Oia bus terminal and ask for the key." Yea - a little bizzare, very strange. I was shocked little Oia would even have a bus terminal. So Jackie and I hitched up our backpacks, and walked down the little road. We finally found the 'terminal'. It consisted of a small convenince store, a gyro shop, a closed tourist office/internet cafe, some benches and about 8 dogs. We asked eveyone we could if they had the key to Casa Francesca, and you can immagine how strange this sounded. No one had any idea. Jackie and I, of course, bickered, and slumped on the benches in exasperation. Where would we stay? We were a good 12 km from the main port of Fira, where would be our best shot at finding a place to crash. I pet one of the dogs, and then the whole fleet of them came over to us. All eight dogs just laid at our feet, and lounged about.
Just then, this couple walks by. Oh my, people! The woman looks at us, smiles, and says "Looks like you have quite a bit of dogs around you!" in this great Austrailian accent. We were so relieved they spoke fluent English - we hadn't really met many Santorinians who did. We explained our situation, and they offered us a ride in the rental car back to Fira. We took up the offer, and they gave us a ride back to Fira. Bruce and his wife were awful nice -- they were from the outback in Australia, and they were vactioning here in Greece, and in Spain. They left us at the Donna Villas, where they had stayed. Bruce gave us there card to show to the guy at the villas, and told us to ask him if they had any reduced price rooms, or if they could recoomend any. We thanked them, and they drove off to return their car and catch their flight home. Jackie and I set off to find Donna Villas, and low and behold.... we couldn't find them! Are you surprised?
So Jackie and I continued our trudging. We trudged down the hill into Fira, looking quite dejected. It was getting dusky now. After about ten minutes or so, this guy jumps out from this rent-a-car joint and shouts, "Ladies, what can I do for you?" We looked at each other - are you kidding? Just what we need, some creepy Greek guy. Turns out he was just trying to help. His name was George -- he looked like an older, not as attractive Johnny Depp, with long, brownish hair. We explained our situation, he made a call, and a hotel shuttle came to pick us up. Hotel Magharitta was wicked cheap, (30 euro for a double per night) clean (even if the hallway smelt like stale cigarettes and the door got stuck), with a gorgeous view and free breakfast.
That evening, we walked to a local restaurant, and enjoyed a delicious meal. Greek salad with fabulous feta, mousakka ( a greek specialty of baked lamb, potato, eggplant and cheese dish) wine, bread and fried zuchinnis. Apostolis, our waiter, liked that we tried to speak Greek (Thank you, etc.). He brought us out complimentary shots of this Greek Poison at the end of the meal that apparently 'aids in digestion'. It tasted like licorice fire, and we were supposed to sip it. To be polite, Jackie and I drank it, and kept washing it down with the dregs of our wine. Everytime I took a sip I shook. The little cat in the restaurant offered some distraction from the Greek Poison, however. She lived there and just mewed for pieces of our food. She had some problem with her head, the waiter said. It was permanently cocked to one side. Anyway, just when we finished our drinks, Apostolis asked if we'd like another. We, politely, declined. Just our luck, he came up with another round of the so dubbed 'Greek Poison.' Some how we got that down, paid our bill, bid goodbye to Apostolis, and called it a night.
Day 3
Jackie and I awoke to a wonderfully clear, bright, day in Fira. We decided to go down and ret a car from George. Bruce and his wife mentioned a car rental is only 25 euros - you get to see the whole island with it too. So we did just this, and we got hooked up with a lime green Fiat. The engine must have been the size of a thimbul. I drove, and Jackie didn't do stick, and we headed off for some gas. We rolled down the windowns, and crusied around the windy turns, looking for the beaches that George had suggested. For some reason, I thought we should go up this ridiculous hill (remember, when I say hill, I mean mountain. Santorini used to be made of active volcanoes, so the 'hills' are just ancient voclano cones. ) . Half-way up the hill we realized our little Fix-It-Again-Tony Fiat just wouldn't make it. I popped it in neutrual and backed down the hill. No matter, we got down safe and cruised off.
Sooner or later we found ourselves on that previously described windy road from Fira to Oia. Riding on it was an experience. Driving on it was something totally different. I would curse at each blind turn, having no idea what was beyond the blind turn ... would there be a car hugging the middle of the road that would turn me off, and down the cliff into the ocean? It was stressful, but we made it Oia, couldn't find anything, and headed back.
Finally, we found our little beach. I desperately had to pee, so I found this old snack shack and went behind it to pee. As I'm squatting, I peer around the corner, and see this white truck approaching. I freaked and pulled up my pants really quick, and got myself together just beofre the truck passed. Apparently I decided to pee right along this dirt road. The driver of the truck passed, looking at me very strangely.
After this, Jack and I laid in the sun for awhile, and took some naps. It was super sunny and nice. The sand was black, and little pumice stones were scattered all along the beach. It was a very peaceful spot. Turns out, we became very burned by the sun - our faces looked like tomatoes.
We then continued on in the Fiat, crusing around, stopping for delcious baklava, and seeing some more beaches. Those kind of beaches where incredibly huge cliffs just crash right down into the sea. Spectactular. Later that afternoon, I decided to tackle another hill.
Rachel: Okay, it says Fira this way, to our right, up this hill.
Jackie: No it doesn't, go straight, it says Fira that way!
Rachel: No, look at it! Too late, we're passed it. I'm going right.
Well, to the right ment a massive hill that we obviously didn't make it up. But this time, there was this little white tinbox behind us yelling at us because I had stalled on the hill. I was juggling the e-brake, trying to stay where we were. The white tinbox got around us, and I attempted to use the same maunver in hill descent we had used earlier. It appeared to be working, until I came really close to this wall, and the back tire got stuck on a step that came into the street from this house that boarded the road. So now we were stuck. I couldn't pull the car up off the step, because the hill was too steap. Jackie got out of the car to inspect the situation.
Jackie: Well, I mean, everytime you start it up and get off the step, you just roll back onto it again.
Rachel: We need to flag someone down.
Jackie: What if I tried to push it off and up the hill?
Rachel: Absolutely not. What if you fell and the car fell back and rolled over you? That would definitely not improve our situation.
Jackie: Everyone that's passing us just stares and looks really weird.
Rachel: Well, I guess you could try pushing. Just shout if something goes wrong. I'll pull the e-brake.
Jackie: Not after what you just told me could happen!
So eventually, we flagged someone down and in one-two-three seconds, he got us unstuck. I guess what it boiled down to what that I am not such a prowess and driving a teensy engine-standard car. We rode back to town to book our ferry passage to Mykonos for the next day. It was the 6th, and our flight back to Athens left from Mykonos on the 8th. Where, in Athens that same day, we'd get the flight back to Florence. Turns out, there were no ferries to Mykonos the next day at all! None! We could leave the next morning, take a 9 HOUR ferry ride to Siros, this island, then leave the next day for Mykonos. Which of course, wouldn't even get us to the island in time for our flight.
Jackie and I, of course, freaked, and went to the airport to see if we could change flights. Turns out we could. We got there too early - the airpot wasn't open yet because it had a 8' o'clock flight, and we were there at 5. It's strange to think of an airport as not being open. Anyway, Jackie and I killed time in the Fiat. We'd have strange contests where we would wait and see whos stomach grumbled first. Sometimes the person who's stomach made noise first would win, sometimes they would lose. It was a very strange game only hungry girls could invent.
We waited till they opened, and switched our flight to leave from Santorini to Athens for the next morning, with no charge. We would just spend another day in Athens. Phew! We returned the car, and tried to find a place George had recommended: El Greco. Turns out they were closed. We walked all around looking for some place to eat. We were in heels, and I don't know if this is rude in Greece or whatever, but some old man spit at us after passed him, and a group of Greek boys shouted "Questo!" (Translation: How much. Yeah, enough said.) We were feeling edgy and hungry, went back to George, and he brought us - himself- to the next door taverna. He was our guardian angel, and the people at this place really took care of us because George gave us the intro. We again had a delcious dinner, and a free extra half caraf of the house barrel wine. I hope the folks at this place didn't think we were tipsy or anything - we were laughing as we always do, and our faces were violently red from our Santorinian sunburn. Hopefully they just looked the other way. Santorini had the nicest people you could meet, even if it was so quiet due to it being it's offseason.
Day 4
The next morning, we caught a 7 am flight back to Athens. By now, we could navigate Athens like a pros (well...er... sort of.) We took a taxi to this local that we had read about in our Greek book, which listed two hotels in the area. They were listed as 1 euro ratings, which meant cheap, and were right near the Acropolis, which is a good area to be in. We found the first hotel and... it was a 4 star get up! All shiny marlble and glass, with men in suits, would cost us 88 euro a night... no way! We packed up, and headed to our next destination. This place was smaller, closer to the Acropolis, and a much nicer price. It was sheer luxury next to Hotel Magharita. That day we relaxed, enjoyed a 'cappucino freddo' like the greeks do at an outdoor coffeebar, saw the Ancient Angora, and did some gift shopping at the nearby markets. We found some funky shops, cool leather sandals, and really great jewelry. This place was much cheaper than Florence. We even found a place for dinner - some old guy gave us the restaurants card.
At dinner, I ordered the 'ocotopus with olive oil and lemon' and Jackie got what was described as "like de meeetbaaalllz" The prices seemed closer too - but more than -- those in Santorini. Turns out they appetizers - the Athens appetizers were more than the price of a Santorini main course. My octopus was squishy and slimy - I thought it may be like calamari. Jackie's 'meatballs' were just like eggplant jalepeno poppers. The salad was fine, but the feta was crumbled, not in a thick square slab on top of the salad like in every other place. Anyway, we were bummed, and decided to hit up a crepe place to make up for it. How can you go wrong with a crepe? Honestly?
We went to bed, watched some CNN in English (quite the treat, I assure you). The next day, we had our flights back home. It went well, but we were zonked when we got back.
Stay tuned for details of the last two nights of Jackie's stay in Florence... to be continued.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
A Not Too Crazy Week in Firenze.
Hey all. This week was pretty uneventful, but great, of course. Also good, because... Christine had her baby. His name is Owen MacManus. And from the pics he seems pretty darn beautiful.
So what happened this week.
Monday, Tuesday all very uneventful. Wednesday was the big Two year gig with Bryan, so we went out to dinner and did gifts. I had some great gnocci and pork, and he had gnocci and rabbit. He tried to convince me to get the rabbit, and our convo went something like this.
"Just get the rabbit. Have you ever had it?"
"No, have you?"
"No, but I tasted it. It's good, really like chicken."
"I can't have it. I had a stuffed animal rabbit I slept with daily as well as a pet rabbit. It would be like eating Silas for dinner."
"Well I am gonna get it. Serve me up some Silas, waitress."
The food was great, as it always is here. Except the rabbit had this artery thingy in it and B face tried to chew it. It was all rubbery and gross. Rabbit arteries = slightly nauseating. After dinner, we went back and made espressos in the new espresso pot I had gotten him. Espresso tastes that much better when made from a new silver pot.
Thursday morning we have italian at 9. It was pretty slick outside as it had rained that night. As I don't have any rain-proof footwear, I doned my tried and true flip flops. The ones that are so worn that my toes have almost rubbed right through the rubber sole. Anyway, while we were walking to class, I remembered how terrible flip flops are on slick city cobble stones. They sucked in Boston, they sucked here too. I was sliding all over the place and nearly fell about oh, 806 times or so. As I was slopping and sliding all over Piazza della Republic, I suddenly had a very big slip, if you know what I mean. Well, I went and broke my flip flop. My foot went right through the soggy, worn leather thong. I looked ridiculous hobbling to school on a busted shoe, it looked like I had a terrible gimp. Bryan walked really fast, and I just tried to slide along really fast behind him. By the time we got there, he was ready to give me a piggy back, and I just took of the shoe once I got inside and into the stairwell. After class, and after the walk home, my foot was black from falling out of the shoe and landing naked on the cobbles. Delicious. So farewell sweet 6 dollar flipflops, I loved you well.
In light of my inappropriate rain footwear, I finally went and bought some sneakers. I had bought those terrible bronze ones, and finally exchanged them for some nice, euro style ascics. I still don't like sneakers though. Bryan thinks sneaker stores make me cranky, and they do. They look touristy, they don't go with anything, and they are poorly designed for women. Probably because we'd rather buy more exciting shoes than boring old sneakers. Anyway, I got them. I want them to get dirty so they aren't so blazing white and I can rock them as the italian chicks do.
Most people are away this weekend, but alot of us stayed behind as well. Midterms ( I can't believe already!) are this week, as well as two projects. We figured we best just hunker down and get some work done. So yesterday Andrew, Bryan and I went to the Uffizi, saw 'Venus on the Half Shell', as Andrew calls it, by Boticelli, as well as a few Leonardos, more Botticellis, some cool Mannerist stuff and the Venus of Urbino. All good stuff I've been waiting to see.
Last night we all went to Michael Collins in Piazza della Signoria, or all of us who weren't away. It's an 'Irish' pub that has this great live band that plays on Friday nights. Haley and I got there before the band set up, and it was dead. We got a table, some drinks, and met up with the boys who came later. And BOOM, WHAM as soon as the band set up it was packed like a tin of sardines. The band plays beetles and the rolling stones and some beach boys and kinks and stuff like that and they're good. Halely and I were those girls who got to the front of the gently swaying crowd and just went ballistic. I'm sure everyone thought we were toast, but we weren't at all -- just having a pretty fun time. By the end of the night, I was drenched in sweat. I cooled down with a nice cider, which is my absolute thirst quenching fave. That night must have been the first time that I have ever seen anyone crowd surf to a beach boys song.
Today was supposed to be 'Productive Day' but of course I slept until 11, ate, bummed around, kinda went to studio, left, and went with B to pick out a stuffed animal. I selected a really soft aligator. See, I have misplaced (not eternally lost) my stuffed animal bunny, who many of you have had the pleasure to meet or see or whatever. Anyway, he has been gone for some time, and I needed some soft creature to cuddle with at night. I figure the aligator, rather than the bear, will repsect bunny's memory in that I am not trying to replace him. Plus, an aligator is more damn fresh than a bear.
Jackie is comming in a week. Needless to say I am excited. She gets here on Saturday, we'll hang out here for the day, and the next day we leave for GREECE. I can already taste the bacclava and see the blue waters. From Athens we'll go to Santorini and Mykonos and back to Athens, and then Florence on the 8th. Be prepared for some wild and crazy blog updates involving my wild and crazy best, miss. Jacqueline A. John. P.S. the flight costs were slightly ridiculous.
Okay, see, nothing too thrilling about this week. But fun in it's own right. Time to go book some hostels/hotels for Greece.
So what happened this week.
Monday, Tuesday all very uneventful. Wednesday was the big Two year gig with Bryan, so we went out to dinner and did gifts. I had some great gnocci and pork, and he had gnocci and rabbit. He tried to convince me to get the rabbit, and our convo went something like this.
"Just get the rabbit. Have you ever had it?"
"No, have you?"
"No, but I tasted it. It's good, really like chicken."
"I can't have it. I had a stuffed animal rabbit I slept with daily as well as a pet rabbit. It would be like eating Silas for dinner."
"Well I am gonna get it. Serve me up some Silas, waitress."
The food was great, as it always is here. Except the rabbit had this artery thingy in it and B face tried to chew it. It was all rubbery and gross. Rabbit arteries = slightly nauseating. After dinner, we went back and made espressos in the new espresso pot I had gotten him. Espresso tastes that much better when made from a new silver pot.
Thursday morning we have italian at 9. It was pretty slick outside as it had rained that night. As I don't have any rain-proof footwear, I doned my tried and true flip flops. The ones that are so worn that my toes have almost rubbed right through the rubber sole. Anyway, while we were walking to class, I remembered how terrible flip flops are on slick city cobble stones. They sucked in Boston, they sucked here too. I was sliding all over the place and nearly fell about oh, 806 times or so. As I was slopping and sliding all over Piazza della Republic, I suddenly had a very big slip, if you know what I mean. Well, I went and broke my flip flop. My foot went right through the soggy, worn leather thong. I looked ridiculous hobbling to school on a busted shoe, it looked like I had a terrible gimp. Bryan walked really fast, and I just tried to slide along really fast behind him. By the time we got there, he was ready to give me a piggy back, and I just took of the shoe once I got inside and into the stairwell. After class, and after the walk home, my foot was black from falling out of the shoe and landing naked on the cobbles. Delicious. So farewell sweet 6 dollar flipflops, I loved you well.
In light of my inappropriate rain footwear, I finally went and bought some sneakers. I had bought those terrible bronze ones, and finally exchanged them for some nice, euro style ascics. I still don't like sneakers though. Bryan thinks sneaker stores make me cranky, and they do. They look touristy, they don't go with anything, and they are poorly designed for women. Probably because we'd rather buy more exciting shoes than boring old sneakers. Anyway, I got them. I want them to get dirty so they aren't so blazing white and I can rock them as the italian chicks do.
Most people are away this weekend, but alot of us stayed behind as well. Midterms ( I can't believe already!) are this week, as well as two projects. We figured we best just hunker down and get some work done. So yesterday Andrew, Bryan and I went to the Uffizi, saw 'Venus on the Half Shell', as Andrew calls it, by Boticelli, as well as a few Leonardos, more Botticellis, some cool Mannerist stuff and the Venus of Urbino. All good stuff I've been waiting to see.
Last night we all went to Michael Collins in Piazza della Signoria, or all of us who weren't away. It's an 'Irish' pub that has this great live band that plays on Friday nights. Haley and I got there before the band set up, and it was dead. We got a table, some drinks, and met up with the boys who came later. And BOOM, WHAM as soon as the band set up it was packed like a tin of sardines. The band plays beetles and the rolling stones and some beach boys and kinks and stuff like that and they're good. Halely and I were those girls who got to the front of the gently swaying crowd and just went ballistic. I'm sure everyone thought we were toast, but we weren't at all -- just having a pretty fun time. By the end of the night, I was drenched in sweat. I cooled down with a nice cider, which is my absolute thirst quenching fave. That night must have been the first time that I have ever seen anyone crowd surf to a beach boys song.
Today was supposed to be 'Productive Day' but of course I slept until 11, ate, bummed around, kinda went to studio, left, and went with B to pick out a stuffed animal. I selected a really soft aligator. See, I have misplaced (not eternally lost) my stuffed animal bunny, who many of you have had the pleasure to meet or see or whatever. Anyway, he has been gone for some time, and I needed some soft creature to cuddle with at night. I figure the aligator, rather than the bear, will repsect bunny's memory in that I am not trying to replace him. Plus, an aligator is more damn fresh than a bear.
Jackie is comming in a week. Needless to say I am excited. She gets here on Saturday, we'll hang out here for the day, and the next day we leave for GREECE. I can already taste the bacclava and see the blue waters. From Athens we'll go to Santorini and Mykonos and back to Athens, and then Florence on the 8th. Be prepared for some wild and crazy blog updates involving my wild and crazy best, miss. Jacqueline A. John. P.S. the flight costs were slightly ridiculous.
Okay, see, nothing too thrilling about this week. But fun in it's own right. Time to go book some hostels/hotels for Greece.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Venezia with the Ladies
Yesteray Meredith, the resident get-your-ass-up-at-the-crack-of-dawn girl, woke me up at 5:00 a.m. I rolled over and told her to go away, I was up. An hour later we headed off to the train station at Santa Maria Novella and caught the train to Venice.
It was Me, Mayo, Meridith, Court and Haley. Five fabulous donnas all ready to hit the ancient city. The train ride down was rather long, and we had to transfer at Bologna. The train from Bologna to Venice was extremely crowded. We were standing, trying to find seats and noticed that all these old folks had their stuff in the seats next to them. They saw us, standing there, waiting to sit down, and did not offer to remove their crap. We had to ask them several times if we could sit down before they even acknowledged us. Yes we are American, but we bought a ticket to, you smelly old snobs. We ended up sitting at different places within the car. Meredith had the unfortunate circumstance to sit next to a woman who, as she puts it, made it her life-goal not to shower or bathe. Apparently evertime she moved, a stench would emmenate from her self, and make Meredith nautious. I was very thankful I sat next to Courtney, who I knew had showered that morning and was devoid of stank.
We rolled into Venice around 10. It was incredibly bright and blinding outside. Court and I opted to get our faces painted in the spirit of Carnevale. She got this nice, plaisley like green swirly gig on the side of her face. I, on the other hand, had the side of my face covered in pink lip gloss, and subsequently doused in glitters of every color. Silver, bronze, gold, green and red. It looked like a drag queen giraffe had been painted on my cheek, with the neck extending up along the bridge of my nose and the head being on my forehead. I was so bright with the sun reflecting off my glittery face, that I gave everyone who was around me a sunburn.
Venice was Wonderful. When we got there it was empty and we had the place to ourselves. The streets are very narrow, Rachel-scaled. You come out of a narrow street, and pow, a small canale, or to be exact, a rio. All the buildings are covered in a kinda black stuff, from being around the water. But it wasn't like I had heard. Everyone had complained that it was smelly and filthy. I found the opposite. It smelt like the ocean -- that brackish salty smell. And the dirtiness was just from being around the water. The canals were impeccibly clean, as were the streets. I loved every moment of the day.
We wondered the streets and eventually found San Marco... the world of tamed pigeons. It was awesome. I had remarked to Courtney, who makes fun of my strange obsession with pigeons, that all the little birds in Venice were very fat. Well, San Marco is why they are so well-fed. People grab crackers or cookies or buy bags of corn seed to feed to the pigeons. We took all the snack food we had, crushed them in our hands and sprinkled the crumbs on our sleeves. Instantaneously, pigeons fly up and perch on your arms, shoulders, even head and eat. It wasn't gross... we even got Haley to do it. They were very soft, with these little warm bellies and warm little feet. They would even make noises when they landed on you - little cooing sounds. We did this for about an hour. And we made it out poop-free.
There were alot of Veneitans dressed in old period outfits... gowns and of course, the trademark masks. Vendors lined the streets and Grand Canale, selling souvenirs and lots of glittery disguises. Carnevale was supposed to be going on, but we think it's more of anight thing. It was mostly people just wondering around enjoying the sun.
Probably the best thing we did was rent a Gondola. Best Ever. It was 100 euro for a five person hour ride and it was worth every cent. Our gondola man looked like Billy Bob Thornton, but not as freaky, and he gave us a little history of Venice as we went. Going through the small canals was special, as it was very quiet compared to the streets that were filled with foot traffic. Our gondola man knew everyone too -- the construction workers, the other boat men, people on the streets. Mayo bent over to look in river under the Bridge of Sighs and she lost her sunglasses. We all sighed in sympathy, but it was okay, they were cheapos- easily replaced. We passed the birthplace of Marco Polo, and Casanova's residence. Just small, indiscreet buildings along the way. It was an amazing ride that we did not want to end. I can see how Venice is said to be romantic. I mean, I was with 5 ladies, but it was a great date none-the-less.
At around 5, we decided to go home. We had been walking for 7 hours straight, after all. If you can get there, go to Venice. It was definitely worth all those griping italians on the train ride there.
It was Me, Mayo, Meridith, Court and Haley. Five fabulous donnas all ready to hit the ancient city. The train ride down was rather long, and we had to transfer at Bologna. The train from Bologna to Venice was extremely crowded. We were standing, trying to find seats and noticed that all these old folks had their stuff in the seats next to them. They saw us, standing there, waiting to sit down, and did not offer to remove their crap. We had to ask them several times if we could sit down before they even acknowledged us. Yes we are American, but we bought a ticket to, you smelly old snobs. We ended up sitting at different places within the car. Meredith had the unfortunate circumstance to sit next to a woman who, as she puts it, made it her life-goal not to shower or bathe. Apparently evertime she moved, a stench would emmenate from her self, and make Meredith nautious. I was very thankful I sat next to Courtney, who I knew had showered that morning and was devoid of stank.
We rolled into Venice around 10. It was incredibly bright and blinding outside. Court and I opted to get our faces painted in the spirit of Carnevale. She got this nice, plaisley like green swirly gig on the side of her face. I, on the other hand, had the side of my face covered in pink lip gloss, and subsequently doused in glitters of every color. Silver, bronze, gold, green and red. It looked like a drag queen giraffe had been painted on my cheek, with the neck extending up along the bridge of my nose and the head being on my forehead. I was so bright with the sun reflecting off my glittery face, that I gave everyone who was around me a sunburn.
Venice was Wonderful. When we got there it was empty and we had the place to ourselves. The streets are very narrow, Rachel-scaled. You come out of a narrow street, and pow, a small canale, or to be exact, a rio. All the buildings are covered in a kinda black stuff, from being around the water. But it wasn't like I had heard. Everyone had complained that it was smelly and filthy. I found the opposite. It smelt like the ocean -- that brackish salty smell. And the dirtiness was just from being around the water. The canals were impeccibly clean, as were the streets. I loved every moment of the day.
We wondered the streets and eventually found San Marco... the world of tamed pigeons. It was awesome. I had remarked to Courtney, who makes fun of my strange obsession with pigeons, that all the little birds in Venice were very fat. Well, San Marco is why they are so well-fed. People grab crackers or cookies or buy bags of corn seed to feed to the pigeons. We took all the snack food we had, crushed them in our hands and sprinkled the crumbs on our sleeves. Instantaneously, pigeons fly up and perch on your arms, shoulders, even head and eat. It wasn't gross... we even got Haley to do it. They were very soft, with these little warm bellies and warm little feet. They would even make noises when they landed on you - little cooing sounds. We did this for about an hour. And we made it out poop-free.
There were alot of Veneitans dressed in old period outfits... gowns and of course, the trademark masks. Vendors lined the streets and Grand Canale, selling souvenirs and lots of glittery disguises. Carnevale was supposed to be going on, but we think it's more of anight thing. It was mostly people just wondering around enjoying the sun.
Probably the best thing we did was rent a Gondola. Best Ever. It was 100 euro for a five person hour ride and it was worth every cent. Our gondola man looked like Billy Bob Thornton, but not as freaky, and he gave us a little history of Venice as we went. Going through the small canals was special, as it was very quiet compared to the streets that were filled with foot traffic. Our gondola man knew everyone too -- the construction workers, the other boat men, people on the streets. Mayo bent over to look in river under the Bridge of Sighs and she lost her sunglasses. We all sighed in sympathy, but it was okay, they were cheapos- easily replaced. We passed the birthplace of Marco Polo, and Casanova's residence. Just small, indiscreet buildings along the way. It was an amazing ride that we did not want to end. I can see how Venice is said to be romantic. I mean, I was with 5 ladies, but it was a great date none-the-less.
At around 5, we decided to go home. We had been walking for 7 hours straight, after all. If you can get there, go to Venice. It was definitely worth all those griping italians on the train ride there.
Milano
Hi Guys,
For some reason, the format of the blog is in italian right now. Hopefully this won't affect what I post.
It's been beautiful here in Florence and Italy lately. Not to rub it in, but I hear it's been snowy and near zero temps at home. We're comming in around 55 degrees daily, and today when I was walking around I went sans jacket, just a sweater. Very sunny and mild.
Last weekend our whole arch studio took an overnight trip to Milan, a.k.a. Milano. Upon arrival, I was desperate to find the Milano cookie factory, but someone informed me that they were probably made in the States back on the ol' Pepperidge Farm, so I soon gave up the pursuit.
Milan is about a 3.5 hour train ride north. It was a pretty pleasant ride, as we had our own reserved cabin of 6 people. We got there, and headed immediately to our hostel, which was quite nice as far as hostels go. After we dropped our things and washed up etc., and after I took a tripple dose of cough medicine, we got on the metro and went to this enormous architecture expo. Think home depot gone mad.
The exhibit was cool, and the complex it was in was cooler. It was based on this mile long linear walk, with people movers. Along the axis, were different buildings, like branches off the trunk of a tree. In each branch was a warehouse with different themes: construction materials, lighting, etc. I liked the building better than the exhibits, but it was fun regardless. I was coughing alot though because it was cold. Surprise.
We left, and headed back to the hostel for a rest and stuff. Then a bunch of us headed out to dinner. I thought it was a Chinese restaurant because we were talking about going to one, and everyone that worked there was Asian. I felt incredibly dumb and non p.c. when someone told me it was Italian, just with Asian waitstaff. The food was cheap, good, and very satisfying.
After dinner, most people headed out to meet our crit at the ice bar, a bar made completely out of ice. You pay 17 euro for a drink and these enormo silver cape-coats to stay warm. I opted out, because if I hacked up a lung during normal temperatures, I sure would just evict my whole insides coughing if I went. I'm sorry I missed out, as I hear out crit got a little 'silly', and beloved germ-freak Meredith licked a subway pole, but it was probably better I stayed behind. Plus, they have a larger one in Rome, so when we visit again, I'll be sure to pay it a visit.
The next day was fun. We trekked around Milan, and saw the architecture and sights. We were going to go into this post-war, rationalist museum, but the place and surrounding gardens was closed down. The day before they had found a bomb from World War II burried in the gardens. They were calling in the police to ensure that the little guy wouldn't explode and take all of Milan with it. Instead, we went to this huge medieval castle that Napoleon had used as a barracks, and to the Duomo of Milan. The Duomo is a large gothic church. It's rare to find the gothic style in Itlay, because it never really took off there. But because Milan is so close to the rest of Europe, it took a liking to it and built this incredible cathedral. It looked like one of those drip-sand castles where you pour water mixed with sand into peaks. Very intricate and sculptural. In front of the Duomo, the boys tried to kick the pigeons, which has become an pastime. Bryan apparently got his foot on two of them. I like the pigeons. They are interesting because they are this little animal that depends entirely on the man-made city. Sure they are flying rats, but I like them.
All in all, the trip was pretty uneventful, but nonetheless fun and oh so educational. Oh, and I saw the first ever Prada store.
I rencently bought a pair of bronze nike sneakers with velcro and a red swoosh. I bought them at footlocker here, and I only bought them because people keep telling me I can't walk around in my smelly old mocassins (which I wear daily, rain or shine, so they were worth every cent.) It's true they are not so good in the rain, and yes, they are a bit unsupportive, but I hate wearing sneakers for everyday walking. I feel so touristy wearing them. I can't rock the sweet sneakers and tight tapered jeans like the Itlian girls here. I'm not so sporty/trendy. I do like the boots, but I'm having trouble finding a pair I enjoy. Anyway, so I bought these bronze kicks and have decided I don't want them because they have a likeness to bowling shoes. So now I am stuck with an 80 euro credit at footlocker because they don't do returns. Yes, they were 80 euro and that is incredibly cheap for sneakers here. I am so picky about sneakers anyway. Oh man, I just went on a rant about shoes. Forgive me. But now you know some of the daily woes I concern myself with.
Our first project for studio is due soon. We're supposed to redo the Piazza di Cestello. Currently, it is a parking lot in front of the San Frediano church. The premise is we have to take out the cars, and make it so that's it better, generally, and so that it can accomodate a temporary book market. Normally, this would be a fabo project. It's light, and fun, and etc. However, when you are in Italy, you don't want to do anything that requires time away from being out in Florence. You fall into the Italian lifestyle of take-it-easy far too easily.
Alright, time to pump out a site model for San Frediano. Should be loads of fun.
For some reason, the format of the blog is in italian right now. Hopefully this won't affect what I post.
It's been beautiful here in Florence and Italy lately. Not to rub it in, but I hear it's been snowy and near zero temps at home. We're comming in around 55 degrees daily, and today when I was walking around I went sans jacket, just a sweater. Very sunny and mild.
Last weekend our whole arch studio took an overnight trip to Milan, a.k.a. Milano. Upon arrival, I was desperate to find the Milano cookie factory, but someone informed me that they were probably made in the States back on the ol' Pepperidge Farm, so I soon gave up the pursuit.
Milan is about a 3.5 hour train ride north. It was a pretty pleasant ride, as we had our own reserved cabin of 6 people. We got there, and headed immediately to our hostel, which was quite nice as far as hostels go. After we dropped our things and washed up etc., and after I took a tripple dose of cough medicine, we got on the metro and went to this enormous architecture expo. Think home depot gone mad.
The exhibit was cool, and the complex it was in was cooler. It was based on this mile long linear walk, with people movers. Along the axis, were different buildings, like branches off the trunk of a tree. In each branch was a warehouse with different themes: construction materials, lighting, etc. I liked the building better than the exhibits, but it was fun regardless. I was coughing alot though because it was cold. Surprise.
We left, and headed back to the hostel for a rest and stuff. Then a bunch of us headed out to dinner. I thought it was a Chinese restaurant because we were talking about going to one, and everyone that worked there was Asian. I felt incredibly dumb and non p.c. when someone told me it was Italian, just with Asian waitstaff. The food was cheap, good, and very satisfying.
After dinner, most people headed out to meet our crit at the ice bar, a bar made completely out of ice. You pay 17 euro for a drink and these enormo silver cape-coats to stay warm. I opted out, because if I hacked up a lung during normal temperatures, I sure would just evict my whole insides coughing if I went. I'm sorry I missed out, as I hear out crit got a little 'silly', and beloved germ-freak Meredith licked a subway pole, but it was probably better I stayed behind. Plus, they have a larger one in Rome, so when we visit again, I'll be sure to pay it a visit.
The next day was fun. We trekked around Milan, and saw the architecture and sights. We were going to go into this post-war, rationalist museum, but the place and surrounding gardens was closed down. The day before they had found a bomb from World War II burried in the gardens. They were calling in the police to ensure that the little guy wouldn't explode and take all of Milan with it. Instead, we went to this huge medieval castle that Napoleon had used as a barracks, and to the Duomo of Milan. The Duomo is a large gothic church. It's rare to find the gothic style in Itlay, because it never really took off there. But because Milan is so close to the rest of Europe, it took a liking to it and built this incredible cathedral. It looked like one of those drip-sand castles where you pour water mixed with sand into peaks. Very intricate and sculptural. In front of the Duomo, the boys tried to kick the pigeons, which has become an pastime. Bryan apparently got his foot on two of them. I like the pigeons. They are interesting because they are this little animal that depends entirely on the man-made city. Sure they are flying rats, but I like them.
All in all, the trip was pretty uneventful, but nonetheless fun and oh so educational. Oh, and I saw the first ever Prada store.
I rencently bought a pair of bronze nike sneakers with velcro and a red swoosh. I bought them at footlocker here, and I only bought them because people keep telling me I can't walk around in my smelly old mocassins (which I wear daily, rain or shine, so they were worth every cent.) It's true they are not so good in the rain, and yes, they are a bit unsupportive, but I hate wearing sneakers for everyday walking. I feel so touristy wearing them. I can't rock the sweet sneakers and tight tapered jeans like the Itlian girls here. I'm not so sporty/trendy. I do like the boots, but I'm having trouble finding a pair I enjoy. Anyway, so I bought these bronze kicks and have decided I don't want them because they have a likeness to bowling shoes. So now I am stuck with an 80 euro credit at footlocker because they don't do returns. Yes, they were 80 euro and that is incredibly cheap for sneakers here. I am so picky about sneakers anyway. Oh man, I just went on a rant about shoes. Forgive me. But now you know some of the daily woes I concern myself with.
Our first project for studio is due soon. We're supposed to redo the Piazza di Cestello. Currently, it is a parking lot in front of the San Frediano church. The premise is we have to take out the cars, and make it so that's it better, generally, and so that it can accomodate a temporary book market. Normally, this would be a fabo project. It's light, and fun, and etc. However, when you are in Italy, you don't want to do anything that requires time away from being out in Florence. You fall into the Italian lifestyle of take-it-easy far too easily.
Alright, time to pump out a site model for San Frediano. Should be loads of fun.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Roma
Hi Everyone,
Sorry I have not written in some time; things have been a little busy here, what with traveling and our school working picking up a bit. Thankfully, even our busy days here, however, would have been our easiest back in Bristol.
Two weekends ago Bryan and I went to Rome. We left on a Saturday afternoon, as we had a field trip to this famous monastary on Friday with our Architecture in Context class. We went to the train station, and found the first train leaving from Firenze. We thought, yeah, maybe the trip with take 2 hours or so. Well, it took almost 4. The non-express train stops at every little town along the way to Rome, so it never gets up to full speed, it the trip is always puncuated with these little stops. We were stir crazy by the time we got there, but we got there nonetheless.
We headed straight towards the Campidoglio. What hit me instantly was the scale change from Florence. Rome was huge... big streets, big buildings, lots of cars and not so many vespas. People say that Rome is dirty. It's not dirty, it's just a big city. It's no dirtier than New York or Boston.
On the way towards the Campidoglio, we passed a small side street. We saw this hulking building in the distance, silhouetted by the evening sky. Bryan was like, oh my is that the Coloseum? I said, no way, but it was. We took a slight detour, and checked it out. It was incredible, enormous. I just stared at it and couldn't believe that this got built so long ago, just with a ton of elbow grease, so to speak. And the Coloseum was just there, like everything in Rome. By 'there' I mean, the Romans just learned to live around and adapt to this ancient thing in their city. The Colseum is now a giant rotary. They are so used to living with ancientness, that it gets absorbed into their daily lives.
We continued on, and crossed a road that went over a sea of ruins. Lots of old columns and foundations and arches... a field of ancient Roman ruins that were roped off. After this, we came upon the Monument to Emmanuel Victor, the first king of unified Itlay. It sat on this giant hill, let's call it a minimountain. It was just a structure of all white columns, all white stone, with exceptional lighting. I took lots of photos, as was everyone else, but I kept hacking because I've had this terrible cold. Everyone and their grandma kept staring.
Beyond the monument, we finally came upon the Campodoglio by Michaelangelo. It is up on this minimountain as well, and you have to climb lots of shallow stairs to get to the top. At the top, there are three buildings. Two flank either side of a piazza, and are at slight angles, so that they screw with the perspective. The third building faces the entire piazza, and it has a fountain and it's own set of glorfifeid steps. The whole thing is absolutely stunning, with pale yellowish stone and intricate tile inlays all over the piazza. There was a wedding taking place when we got there, and we were able to watch the bride descend the steps and come down back into Rome.
We stayed here for awhile, sketching and wondering around. I kept complaining that my butt was cold from sitting on the stone. We decided to head to our hostel at this point.
Our hostel was in a seedy area, near the trainstation. I think it was Rome's China Town. The hostel was called 'hostel beautiful', which it was anything but, but we got our own room and bath, which was essential. We ate some delcious chicken scallopene from a nearby restaurant, and called it an early night. We woke up early, and moved on to find the San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, and the Spanish Steps.
On the way, we snagged some croissants and San Pelligrino orange drinks for breakfast. Of course, the drinks had tops where you need an opener. Bryan tried hitting them against all the ancient buildings we passed, to no avail. We had these drinks and no way to drink them. Finally we had to stop and buy a cheap souvenir opener. It worked, but barely. Just when we openened them, we stumbled upon the four fountains. Once again, the ancient stuff here just appears like whammo! Ancientness!
We ate lunch outside the church, and waited for them to open. It was so tiny inside, but the ceiling is so intricate and scuplted and perfectly white. I was so inspired, I figured out how to work the video setting on my camera and yes, I caught the gorgeousness on camera. Stay tuned.
Afterwards, we finally found the Spanish Steps. They were alot of them, and we ran down and back up. Bryan made me take a picture of him next to a palm tree. It's warmer there so they are all over the place. As we were running back up the steps, I kept coughing up phelgm, and so I had to spit. So I spat all over the Spanish Steps. I can immagine what this looked like to people who saw me.
The whole area of the Steps is really nice. The higher part, the top of the steps, has this boulevard running along it -- lined with trees and gorgeous views of the entire city. You can see the Vatican, and it's enormo -- we plan to come back and see that again. I think this was my favorite part. My favorite part besides seeing the nuns. I love seeing nuns. I see them in Florence sometimes too. I don't really see nuns at home. Here, they walk around arm-in-arm, chatting and moving slowly. I like that about them. They are very historic part of this historic city.
After this, we decided we wanted to go home. We payed extra for an express train, and boarded. It was so nice... no one was on it, and we got free newspapers that we couldn't read, free candies, drink offers. Bryan asked me why no one was on the train, and I said, Oh well, it's a Sunday people must not travel on Sundays. Idiot. Turns out we were on a First Class train for half the trip, and when the ticket man came, we got the boot to the much more crowed, hotter, plebian second class train. Anyway, we got home in 1.5 hours all in one piece.
Since then, we've been to Milan, but I'll write that in a different entry. I write these long winded accounts, and writing about one city tuckers me out.
At home we had an episode today. We awoke to find a dead pigeon on the floor of our pigeon-poop coated lightwell patio thingy. It was very sad. Mayo took the dead thing outside and put it in a dumpster and Meredith got upset because she wanted to take a picture of it. Today is Valentine's day, and Bryan got me a gorgeous bouquet of roses and white lillys... i love them both alot, as well as a box of italian chococlates. He's such a good boy. Tonight is a girls night, all 8 of us are going to trek in our stilettos to a little trattoria for dinner. I'm suped, and I'm getting dessert god damn it.
Okay, I'm out. I've got some trip planning to do.
Rachel
Sorry I have not written in some time; things have been a little busy here, what with traveling and our school working picking up a bit. Thankfully, even our busy days here, however, would have been our easiest back in Bristol.
Two weekends ago Bryan and I went to Rome. We left on a Saturday afternoon, as we had a field trip to this famous monastary on Friday with our Architecture in Context class. We went to the train station, and found the first train leaving from Firenze. We thought, yeah, maybe the trip with take 2 hours or so. Well, it took almost 4. The non-express train stops at every little town along the way to Rome, so it never gets up to full speed, it the trip is always puncuated with these little stops. We were stir crazy by the time we got there, but we got there nonetheless.
We headed straight towards the Campidoglio. What hit me instantly was the scale change from Florence. Rome was huge... big streets, big buildings, lots of cars and not so many vespas. People say that Rome is dirty. It's not dirty, it's just a big city. It's no dirtier than New York or Boston.
On the way towards the Campidoglio, we passed a small side street. We saw this hulking building in the distance, silhouetted by the evening sky. Bryan was like, oh my is that the Coloseum? I said, no way, but it was. We took a slight detour, and checked it out. It was incredible, enormous. I just stared at it and couldn't believe that this got built so long ago, just with a ton of elbow grease, so to speak. And the Coloseum was just there, like everything in Rome. By 'there' I mean, the Romans just learned to live around and adapt to this ancient thing in their city. The Colseum is now a giant rotary. They are so used to living with ancientness, that it gets absorbed into their daily lives.
We continued on, and crossed a road that went over a sea of ruins. Lots of old columns and foundations and arches... a field of ancient Roman ruins that were roped off. After this, we came upon the Monument to Emmanuel Victor, the first king of unified Itlay. It sat on this giant hill, let's call it a minimountain. It was just a structure of all white columns, all white stone, with exceptional lighting. I took lots of photos, as was everyone else, but I kept hacking because I've had this terrible cold. Everyone and their grandma kept staring.
Beyond the monument, we finally came upon the Campodoglio by Michaelangelo. It is up on this minimountain as well, and you have to climb lots of shallow stairs to get to the top. At the top, there are three buildings. Two flank either side of a piazza, and are at slight angles, so that they screw with the perspective. The third building faces the entire piazza, and it has a fountain and it's own set of glorfifeid steps. The whole thing is absolutely stunning, with pale yellowish stone and intricate tile inlays all over the piazza. There was a wedding taking place when we got there, and we were able to watch the bride descend the steps and come down back into Rome.
We stayed here for awhile, sketching and wondering around. I kept complaining that my butt was cold from sitting on the stone. We decided to head to our hostel at this point.
Our hostel was in a seedy area, near the trainstation. I think it was Rome's China Town. The hostel was called 'hostel beautiful', which it was anything but, but we got our own room and bath, which was essential. We ate some delcious chicken scallopene from a nearby restaurant, and called it an early night. We woke up early, and moved on to find the San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, and the Spanish Steps.
On the way, we snagged some croissants and San Pelligrino orange drinks for breakfast. Of course, the drinks had tops where you need an opener. Bryan tried hitting them against all the ancient buildings we passed, to no avail. We had these drinks and no way to drink them. Finally we had to stop and buy a cheap souvenir opener. It worked, but barely. Just when we openened them, we stumbled upon the four fountains. Once again, the ancient stuff here just appears like whammo! Ancientness!
We ate lunch outside the church, and waited for them to open. It was so tiny inside, but the ceiling is so intricate and scuplted and perfectly white. I was so inspired, I figured out how to work the video setting on my camera and yes, I caught the gorgeousness on camera. Stay tuned.
Afterwards, we finally found the Spanish Steps. They were alot of them, and we ran down and back up. Bryan made me take a picture of him next to a palm tree. It's warmer there so they are all over the place. As we were running back up the steps, I kept coughing up phelgm, and so I had to spit. So I spat all over the Spanish Steps. I can immagine what this looked like to people who saw me.
The whole area of the Steps is really nice. The higher part, the top of the steps, has this boulevard running along it -- lined with trees and gorgeous views of the entire city. You can see the Vatican, and it's enormo -- we plan to come back and see that again. I think this was my favorite part. My favorite part besides seeing the nuns. I love seeing nuns. I see them in Florence sometimes too. I don't really see nuns at home. Here, they walk around arm-in-arm, chatting and moving slowly. I like that about them. They are very historic part of this historic city.
After this, we decided we wanted to go home. We payed extra for an express train, and boarded. It was so nice... no one was on it, and we got free newspapers that we couldn't read, free candies, drink offers. Bryan asked me why no one was on the train, and I said, Oh well, it's a Sunday people must not travel on Sundays. Idiot. Turns out we were on a First Class train for half the trip, and when the ticket man came, we got the boot to the much more crowed, hotter, plebian second class train. Anyway, we got home in 1.5 hours all in one piece.
Since then, we've been to Milan, but I'll write that in a different entry. I write these long winded accounts, and writing about one city tuckers me out.
At home we had an episode today. We awoke to find a dead pigeon on the floor of our pigeon-poop coated lightwell patio thingy. It was very sad. Mayo took the dead thing outside and put it in a dumpster and Meredith got upset because she wanted to take a picture of it. Today is Valentine's day, and Bryan got me a gorgeous bouquet of roses and white lillys... i love them both alot, as well as a box of italian chococlates. He's such a good boy. Tonight is a girls night, all 8 of us are going to trek in our stilettos to a little trattoria for dinner. I'm suped, and I'm getting dessert god damn it.
Okay, I'm out. I've got some trip planning to do.
Rachel
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Italian Transportation Goes on Strike; Student Travelers Fall Victim
This morning, six of us: Meredith, Courtney, Mayo, Nikki, Me (all members of the Corso di Tintori apartment) and Bryan left for our brief sojourn to Pisa. Meredith, of course, had to wake up around 7, and thus wake the rest of us bums up at 730. We left around 10 of for an 8:30 train.
At first, everything went smoothly. We powerwalked to the train station, which woke us all up, got our tickets sucessfully, and piled onto the, suprise, very cold train. We all took naps, chatted etc., until an hour had transpired and we stopped in Pisa. We unloaded, and found the closest bar, which is a coffee shop, and ordered ridiculously expensive cappucinos.
Now, here in Florence, we are now accustomed to 1 euro cappucinos, and 1 euro croissants -- typical breakfast fare for when you're feeling fancy, tired, and hungry. Well -- here in Pisa, a cappucino will you set you back 4.50 euros, and a croissant another 4. We did it anyway, because our stomachs were eating themselves. The bathroom was also experience. Bryan had used it and left, he recommended that i 'hover.' Rest assured, I hovered a good foot above the seat.
The place where the tower was came out of nowhere. You walk about 20 minutes from the train station, among deserted streets and graffited walls, and pow! Tower Power. The tower was very cool. And get this -- it was leaning. It's next to a church, with it's own duomo, and a babtistry -- all white stone set in this enormous green lawn. It's really beautiful, the white stone on the huge green plane.
We goofed around, taking those pictures where you 'hold up' or 'push down' the tower. Meredith took this humilating video of me trying to crawl ontop of the small stone pillars that you stand on to take these famed photos. It was really very humbling. After our photoshoot, we were going to climb up the tower, but it was 15 euros, and besides, it looked like it was going to fall down.
We headed back to the train station, hurried and everything, thinking we were going to miss the 1230 train. But it didn't come on time, and some lady came over the loud speaker saying something about the train to Firenze and Santa Maria Novella, and low and behold, it turns out the train would not be comming. The transportation folks decided to go on strike from 9 to 6 so we were out of luck on a train ride home.
P.S. We got McDonald's for lunch. I can't remember the last time I'd had McDonalds, but I had it this time. It tasted great, but left my stomach quite leaden.
Some nice Italian man told us we should take a bus. We decided this would be a good alternative idea, and booked it to the bus station. The tickets we bought were for a bus that left at 1 to Luca. From Luca, we'd have to transfer to a bus to Florence. When we bought them it was 1254, so we had to book it. We grabbed the tickets, and hurried around the corner to where the lady said the bus would arrive.
Because we are mornons, we sprinted past the correct spot, across a vicious rotary where Nikki nearly got hit, and ran down the street that lead towards the tower. We skirted around a hoard of people that were waiting for a bus -- we thought it might be ours, but it was a city tram. We continued on until it was obvious we were way to far from the bus station. We all yelled at each other as to which was the right way. You can immagine the chaos. A bunch of 'strong personality' type girls shouting and screaming in high pitched voices in the desolate streets of Pisa. We ended up turning around and sprinting back towards the bus station, where we saw a suspicious blue bus that just might be our ride. Meredith ran like lightening, I've never seen someone ran so fast. She got into this low, dangerous crouching-run. The rest of us just ran back through the crowd of awaiting passengers at that 'other' bus stop. We must have looked like a bunch of idiots.
So we saw the bus arrive at the stop, then leave. We were bumed, and just slumped all over the steps. Then suddenly, another blue bus appeared at that bus stop with all the people that was across the rotary. We ran, shoved our way into the crowd, and got on the correct bus to Lucca.
I holed up with Nikki in the back of the bus. Before we even left the city, the bus driver puled over and started yelling at this guy who was slumped in a seat in the middle of the bus. He kept ingnoring him, but finally jumped up and yelled back in Italian. This raucous exchange went on for five full minutes. Apparently the young guy that was being yelled at tried to get on with a shiesty ticket. I heard this young dark character even say things like 'Fungul' (spelling?) and yes, even "Mama Mia!" Eventually the situation calmed down, and we ventured on, through gorgeous mountains and farmland to Lucca. At Lucca we had a smooth transfer, and made it all the way to Florence. It was a bus packed with preteen Italian kids who gawked at me when I spoke English, and French guy who only spoke Italian to me, which of course, did not work.
All in all, we got home in a little over 3 hours. It worked out well, and the posed pics of us supporting the tower were definitely worth it.
Architecture in Context in a few minutes. Three hours of architecture mumbo jumbo that seems to transcend all languages. Liminality, temporariness, permanency, yadda yadda yadda. Our professor is cool though, Franco. He's short with shoulder length brown hair and looks like he'd be a short henchman for some kind of maffia, but he's super nice and very knoweldgeable about this stuff. So off I go, hopefully he'll give us a capuccino break.
This morning, six of us: Meredith, Courtney, Mayo, Nikki, Me (all members of the Corso di Tintori apartment) and Bryan left for our brief sojourn to Pisa. Meredith, of course, had to wake up around 7, and thus wake the rest of us bums up at 730. We left around 10 of for an 8:30 train.
At first, everything went smoothly. We powerwalked to the train station, which woke us all up, got our tickets sucessfully, and piled onto the, suprise, very cold train. We all took naps, chatted etc., until an hour had transpired and we stopped in Pisa. We unloaded, and found the closest bar, which is a coffee shop, and ordered ridiculously expensive cappucinos.
Now, here in Florence, we are now accustomed to 1 euro cappucinos, and 1 euro croissants -- typical breakfast fare for when you're feeling fancy, tired, and hungry. Well -- here in Pisa, a cappucino will you set you back 4.50 euros, and a croissant another 4. We did it anyway, because our stomachs were eating themselves. The bathroom was also experience. Bryan had used it and left, he recommended that i 'hover.' Rest assured, I hovered a good foot above the seat.
The place where the tower was came out of nowhere. You walk about 20 minutes from the train station, among deserted streets and graffited walls, and pow! Tower Power. The tower was very cool. And get this -- it was leaning. It's next to a church, with it's own duomo, and a babtistry -- all white stone set in this enormous green lawn. It's really beautiful, the white stone on the huge green plane.
We goofed around, taking those pictures where you 'hold up' or 'push down' the tower. Meredith took this humilating video of me trying to crawl ontop of the small stone pillars that you stand on to take these famed photos. It was really very humbling. After our photoshoot, we were going to climb up the tower, but it was 15 euros, and besides, it looked like it was going to fall down.
We headed back to the train station, hurried and everything, thinking we were going to miss the 1230 train. But it didn't come on time, and some lady came over the loud speaker saying something about the train to Firenze and Santa Maria Novella, and low and behold, it turns out the train would not be comming. The transportation folks decided to go on strike from 9 to 6 so we were out of luck on a train ride home.
P.S. We got McDonald's for lunch. I can't remember the last time I'd had McDonalds, but I had it this time. It tasted great, but left my stomach quite leaden.
Some nice Italian man told us we should take a bus. We decided this would be a good alternative idea, and booked it to the bus station. The tickets we bought were for a bus that left at 1 to Luca. From Luca, we'd have to transfer to a bus to Florence. When we bought them it was 1254, so we had to book it. We grabbed the tickets, and hurried around the corner to where the lady said the bus would arrive.
Because we are mornons, we sprinted past the correct spot, across a vicious rotary where Nikki nearly got hit, and ran down the street that lead towards the tower. We skirted around a hoard of people that were waiting for a bus -- we thought it might be ours, but it was a city tram. We continued on until it was obvious we were way to far from the bus station. We all yelled at each other as to which was the right way. You can immagine the chaos. A bunch of 'strong personality' type girls shouting and screaming in high pitched voices in the desolate streets of Pisa. We ended up turning around and sprinting back towards the bus station, where we saw a suspicious blue bus that just might be our ride. Meredith ran like lightening, I've never seen someone ran so fast. She got into this low, dangerous crouching-run. The rest of us just ran back through the crowd of awaiting passengers at that 'other' bus stop. We must have looked like a bunch of idiots.
So we saw the bus arrive at the stop, then leave. We were bumed, and just slumped all over the steps. Then suddenly, another blue bus appeared at that bus stop with all the people that was across the rotary. We ran, shoved our way into the crowd, and got on the correct bus to Lucca.
I holed up with Nikki in the back of the bus. Before we even left the city, the bus driver puled over and started yelling at this guy who was slumped in a seat in the middle of the bus. He kept ingnoring him, but finally jumped up and yelled back in Italian. This raucous exchange went on for five full minutes. Apparently the young guy that was being yelled at tried to get on with a shiesty ticket. I heard this young dark character even say things like 'Fungul' (spelling?) and yes, even "Mama Mia!" Eventually the situation calmed down, and we ventured on, through gorgeous mountains and farmland to Lucca. At Lucca we had a smooth transfer, and made it all the way to Florence. It was a bus packed with preteen Italian kids who gawked at me when I spoke English, and French guy who only spoke Italian to me, which of course, did not work.
All in all, we got home in a little over 3 hours. It worked out well, and the posed pics of us supporting the tower were definitely worth it.
Architecture in Context in a few minutes. Three hours of architecture mumbo jumbo that seems to transcend all languages. Liminality, temporariness, permanency, yadda yadda yadda. Our professor is cool though, Franco. He's short with shoulder length brown hair and looks like he'd be a short henchman for some kind of maffia, but he's super nice and very knoweldgeable about this stuff. So off I go, hopefully he'll give us a capuccino break.
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