(Adventures from my 2nd weekend in Granada...)
My second weekend in Granada and I’m already completely adjusted to the Spanish way of life. I’m not sure what to think about this. My friends from home think it's crazy how quickly I've adjusted and "changed", and my friends here in Spain think that this is normal. All I know is that I have had more fun in the last two weeks than I possibly ever have in my entire life.
Last night I met Cerena, Suzanne, Suzanne’s roommate Inma and some of Inma’s friends from out of town for tapas at a place called La Bodega. Inma is almost 30 years old, but seems like she is my age. I love being around Inma and her friends because they are Spanish—locals—and there is nothing like being with locals. Inma’s friends are all around her age, some a little older and some a little younger, but as I said, they seem much younger.
Locals know everything about the city and bring you to the most amazing places where there are other locals. We speak Spanish 100% of the time we spend with them and not just any Spanish—español Andaluz (Andalucían Spanish). We talk about languages and accents and why Spanish people are so embarrassed to speak English even though most of the time their English is better than our Spanish.
La Bodega is a small restaurant located just off C/ Recogidas on C/ Jardines. The place specializing in typical comida Gallega (Northern Spanish food), but they have a little bit of everything. The atmosphere of La Bodega is warm—welcoming. It is both fun and classy at the same time. There are families, older people, and younger people (all Spaniards) who frequent this incredible establishment.
The place was packed full of people from the time we arrived at 9:30 to the time we left at 1:00am. The waiters were running around like crazy trying to serve everyone. Cerena and I got there before everyone else, so we started out with some tinto de verano (my drink of choice in the South of Spain) and our tapa came shortly after—albóndigas con papitas y pan. We also decided to order a media ración of croquetas—a tapa that I miss from Madrid. We then ordered a ración of Bacalao (cod fish) because my roommate Paz said that we had to try it. Both raciones were some of the best tapas I’ve had in Granada thus far.
When Suzanne, Inma and 3 of her friends from out of town arrived, we ordered a “cerdo”—a bottle of white wine served in a frozen jar shaped like a pig. When you pour the wine, it comes out of the pig’s mouth. Spain is so weird. We also order a ración of pulpo (octopus) and it was delicious. We spent part of the time talking about traveling and cultures and Spanish from Andalucía with each other. Suzanne, Cerena and I spent the other part of the night trying to figure out what in the world Inma and her friends were saying to each other when they were talking only with each other. The accent in Andalucía (and especially in Granada) is seemly impossible to understand after being here for only a week!
After La Bodega, we finished our night out at a bar called Marisma—a pretty famous bar here in Granada, especially considering they don't serve tapas. Instead, they have sunflower seeds. Spain is so weird. Who would ever think to serve sunflower seeds in a bar? According to Inma, though, this is normal. I tried to tell Inma that sunflower seeds are associated with baseball in the U.S., but she didn’t understand.
Cerena and I were tired and ready to go home. However, when we tried to explain this to Inma, she said, “No vais a casa ahora. ¿Qué tenéis que hacer mañana? Es domingo. No tenéis que hacer nada. Entonces vais a venir a casa pa’ tomar una copa, ¿vale?” (You’re not going home right now! What do you have to do tomorrow? It’s Sunday…You don’t have to do anything. So you’re going to come up for a drink, ok?).
It wasn’t even a question. This is what Inma said to me several times that night and several times since that night whenever I tell her that I’m sleepy or that I’m going home. Inma (as I’m discovering most Spaniards are) is just so logical (in the Spanish sense of the word) and “in the moment”—the complete opposite of the American idea of logic. Needless to say, we ended up coming up to their apartment, talking, playing cherades, and then sleeping over. When I asked her who she blames when she’s tired, she told me, “Es culpa de la felicidad.” This is an expression used often in Spain that literally translates to: “It’s happiness’s fault.”
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Es mi segundo fin de semana en Granada y ya estoy acostumbrada al estilo de vida español. No sé pensar de esto. Mis amigos de EE.UU. no pueden creer que he acostumbrado tan rapido y que he "cambiado" tanto, y mis amigos españoles piensan que todo esto es normal. Solo sé que me he divertido más en las últimas dos semanas que jamás me he divertido en mi vida entera.
Anoche quedé con Cerena, Suzanne, Inma, y algunos amigos de Inma para tapas a un restaurante que se llama La Bodega. Inma tiene casi 30 años, pero parece la misma edad que yo. Me encanta pasar tiempo con Inma y sus amigos porque son españoles, y no hay nada como estar con los españoles en España. Los amigos de Inma tienen más o menos la misma edad que ella—algunos son mayores y algunos menores. Pero como he dicho, ellos parecen más joven que son.
Los que viven en España saben todo de la ciudad y te enseñan los sitios más chulos donde están otros españoles. Hablamos en español cien por ciento del tiempo que pasamos con ellos y no hablamos simplemente Castellano sino español Andaluz (el español de Andalucía). Hablamos de los idiomas y los acentos, y por qué la gente en España tiene tanta vergüenza de hablar el inglés aunque la mayoría del tiempo su inglés es mejor que nuestro español.
La Bodega es un restaurant pequeño situado cerca de C/ Recogidas en la C/ Jardines. El restaurante especializa en la comida Gallega (comida del Norte de España), pero tienen un poco de todo. El ambiente de La Bodega es cómodo. Es divertido y clásico a la vez. Hay familias, personas viejas y personas menores (todos son españoles) que van aquí durante el día y por la noche.
El sitio estaba llena de gente desde cuando llegamos a las 21.30h. Los camareros estaban corriendo por todas partes intentando de servir a todos. Cerena y yo llegábamos temprano. Entonces pedimos un tinto de verano (mi bebida preferida en el Sur de España) y un tapa de albóndigas. También pedimos una media ración de croquetas—una tapa que extraño de Madrid. Luego pedimos madia ración de Bacalao a la Bodega—un plato que Paz me dijo que tenía que probar. Las dos raciones estaban algunas de las mejores tapas que he comido en Granada hasta ahora.
Cuando llegaron Suzanne, Inma, y sus amigos, pedimos un “cerdo”—una botella de vino que se sirve en una jarra muy fría en la forma de un cerdo. Cuando echas el vino, sale de la boca del cerdo. Me encanta España. También pedimos una ración de pulpo y estaba deliciosa. Pasamos media de la noche hablando de viajar y las culturas y el español Andaluz entre nosotros. Suzanne, Cerena y yo pasamos la otra parte de la noche intentando de entender la conversación entre Inma y sus amigos cuando estaban hablamos entre ellos mismos. ¡El acento Andaluz (y especialmente en Granada) parece casi imposible de entender después de estar aquí por tan solo una semana!
Acabamos nuestra noche de salir a un lugar que se llama Marisma—un bar bastante famosa en Granada aunque no pone tapa. En lugar de tapas, tiene pipas. España es muy extraño. ¿Quién pensaría en servir pipas en un bar? Según Inma esto es normal. Intenté decirle a inma que las pipas se asocian con el béisbol en los EE.UU., pero no entendía.
Cerena y yo estábamos cansadas y preparadas a irnos a casa. Pero cuando tratamos de explicar esto a Inma, ella nos dijo, “No vais a casa ahora. ¿Qué tenéis que hacer mañana? Es domingo. No tenéis que hacer nada. Entonces vais a venir a casa pa’ tomar una copa, ¿vale?”
Aún no fue pregunta. Inma me dijo esas mismas palabras varias veces esa noche y varias veces desde aquella noche cuando yo le digo que tengo sueño o que quiero irme a casa. Inma (como estoy descubriendo son la mayoría de los españoles) es lógica (en el sentido de la palabra epsañol) y siempre está “en el momento”—el puro opuesto de la idea de lógico de los Americanos. No necesito decir que nos quedábamos al piso de Inma y Suzanne, hablando y jugando cherades, y al final dormimos allí. Cuando le pregunté a Inma a quién tiene la culpa cuando ella está cansada, me dijo, “Es culpa de la felicidad.”
10.18.2009
Mi Cumpleaños
My second day in the apartment was my 23rd birthday. Unfortunately, I had to wake up at 5:30am and meet with Cerena and Suzanne to apply for our residency permits. It was a terrible experience! First, we went to the address CIEE gave us and waited until the Extranjería opened at 9:00. When we went inside, we found out that we were not in the right place. We were then sent to the building around the corner, but this was also the wrong place. Finally, a man working in the 2nd building sent us to the Policía (on other side of the city) in Plaza los Campos, which was the correct place. We waited in line for a half hour and turned in our necessary forms to get our residency permits, which will be ready in 1 month.
And that is how my birthday began. After the Policía, we stopped by Paz’s store to say hi and then went to see Paco at the frutería. I came home to find a gift from Paz—a pair of beautiful silver hoop earings from her store. She is so sweet! That night, we went for tapas at a taberna called La Juliana and it was fantastic. Suzanne knows one of the waiters—José. We spent almost 4 hours there drinking tinto de verano, eating delicious tapas, and playing to adorable Spanish girls (daughters of one of the restaurant owners). I got home around 1:00am and went to sleep early (at least for Spain).
I spent Friday with Cerena and Suzanne walking through the Albayzín. We walked up to the Mirador San Nicolás and had kebabs for lunch before siesta. That night I didn’t do anything—I was tired and still adjusting to the Spanish schedule and Spanish way of life.
Saturday night I “went out” (as the Spaniard’s do) for my first time in Granada. We started the night at a few tapas bars with Cerena, Suzanne, Alberto (Suzanne’s roommate), and some of Alberto’s friends—David, Sergio, and José. After La Juliana (which has become a tradition), we went to another tapas bar called Los Grifos—a really cool tapas place. Then went to a concert to see a Spanish rock-pop group called Toulous (they are from Granada). And after? We went to a place called La Percha—a bar/discoteca that plays all 80’s music, which Suzanne and I loved! The last place we went was a popular discoteca called Vogue. This, apparently, is a typical weekend night in Spain. So, my 23rd birthday weekend was amazing and unforgettable, and weekend that would not have made sense to most American's. The truth is we didn’t really do much that night. We had a few tinto de veranos, had good conversation, danced a little, and enjoyed spending a night among new friends.
(Sidenote: When my roommate came home from work on Friday night and saw that I was home, she said, “What are you doing here? It’s a Friday night in Spain!”).
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Mi segundo día en el piso era mi cumpleaños, y desafortunadamente me levanté a las 5’30 de la mañana y quedé con Cerena y Suzanne para solicitarnos para nuestros permisos de residencias. Qué horrible fue esa experiencia. Primero fuimos al lugar donde CIEE nos dijo que debemos ir y esperamos hasta que abrió a las 9’00. Pero cuando entramos, descubrimos que eso no era el lugar correcto. Después, fuimos a otro edificio a ver si era el lugar correcto, pero tampoco fue ese edificio. Finalmente, un hombre nos mandó a la Policía (al otro lado de la ciudad) en la Plaza los Campos. Por fin estábamos en el lugar correcto. Esperamos en cola por 30 minutos y entregamos todas las formas.
Y así empezó mi cumple. Después, pasamos por la tienda de Paz para saludarle y también pasamos por la Frutería de Paco. Regresé a casa y encontré un regalo que Paz me dejó—unos aretes preciosas de su tienda. ¡Qué simpática es ella! Por la noche, fuimos de tapeo. Fuimos a un bar de tapas que se llama La Juliana (C/Arrabial) y fue fantástico. Suzanne conoce a uno de los camareros—José. Pasamos casi cuatro horas bebiendo tinto de verano, comiendo tapas muy ricas, y jugando con 2 niñas lindísimas (hijas del dueño del restaurante). Regresé sobre la una y me acosté temprano (para España).
El viernes quedé con Cerena y Suzanne y andamos por el Albayzín. Pasamos un rato al Mirador San Nicolás y después comimos kebabs para la comida. No hice nada esa noche—estaba cansada y todavía estaba acostumbrándome al horario y a la vida española.
El sábado salí de marcha por primera vez en Granada. Empezábamos la noche a unos bares de tapa con Cerena, Suzanne, Alberto (el compañero de piso de Suzanne), y unos amigos de Alberto—David, Sergio (Tercio), José, y Fernando. Después de La Juliana (que ya es una tradición), fuimos a otro bar que se llama Los Grifos—un bar de tapas muy chulo. Quedamos allí hasta las doce, y luego fuimos a un concierto para ver un grupo de pop-rock que se llama Toulous (son de Granada). ¿Y después? Qué sorpresa, fuimos a otro bar—La Percha, que es más como una mezcla entre un bar y un club que toca la música de los años 80. A Suzanne y yo nos encantaba la Percha y la música. El último lugar que fuimos aquella noche fue una discoteca muy popular que se llama Vogue. Nunca tendría una noche así en los EE.UU—nunca. Pero aquí, es normal. (Sidenote: El viernes por la noche cuando mi compañera de piso regresé del trabajo y me vio, me dijo, “¿Y qué haces aquí? ¡Es viernes por la noche en España!”). La verdad es que no hicimos nada en especial—tomamos algunas bebidas, hablamos, bailamos un poco, y disfrutamos de estar con amigos.
And that is how my birthday began. After the Policía, we stopped by Paz’s store to say hi and then went to see Paco at the frutería. I came home to find a gift from Paz—a pair of beautiful silver hoop earings from her store. She is so sweet! That night, we went for tapas at a taberna called La Juliana and it was fantastic. Suzanne knows one of the waiters—José. We spent almost 4 hours there drinking tinto de verano, eating delicious tapas, and playing to adorable Spanish girls (daughters of one of the restaurant owners). I got home around 1:00am and went to sleep early (at least for Spain).
I spent Friday with Cerena and Suzanne walking through the Albayzín. We walked up to the Mirador San Nicolás and had kebabs for lunch before siesta. That night I didn’t do anything—I was tired and still adjusting to the Spanish schedule and Spanish way of life.
Saturday night I “went out” (as the Spaniard’s do) for my first time in Granada. We started the night at a few tapas bars with Cerena, Suzanne, Alberto (Suzanne’s roommate), and some of Alberto’s friends—David, Sergio, and José. After La Juliana (which has become a tradition), we went to another tapas bar called Los Grifos—a really cool tapas place. Then went to a concert to see a Spanish rock-pop group called Toulous (they are from Granada). And after? We went to a place called La Percha—a bar/discoteca that plays all 80’s music, which Suzanne and I loved! The last place we went was a popular discoteca called Vogue. This, apparently, is a typical weekend night in Spain. So, my 23rd birthday weekend was amazing and unforgettable, and weekend that would not have made sense to most American's. The truth is we didn’t really do much that night. We had a few tinto de veranos, had good conversation, danced a little, and enjoyed spending a night among new friends.
(Sidenote: When my roommate came home from work on Friday night and saw that I was home, she said, “What are you doing here? It’s a Friday night in Spain!”).
.....................................................................................
Mi segundo día en el piso era mi cumpleaños, y desafortunadamente me levanté a las 5’30 de la mañana y quedé con Cerena y Suzanne para solicitarnos para nuestros permisos de residencias. Qué horrible fue esa experiencia. Primero fuimos al lugar donde CIEE nos dijo que debemos ir y esperamos hasta que abrió a las 9’00. Pero cuando entramos, descubrimos que eso no era el lugar correcto. Después, fuimos a otro edificio a ver si era el lugar correcto, pero tampoco fue ese edificio. Finalmente, un hombre nos mandó a la Policía (al otro lado de la ciudad) en la Plaza los Campos. Por fin estábamos en el lugar correcto. Esperamos en cola por 30 minutos y entregamos todas las formas.
Y así empezó mi cumple. Después, pasamos por la tienda de Paz para saludarle y también pasamos por la Frutería de Paco. Regresé a casa y encontré un regalo que Paz me dejó—unos aretes preciosas de su tienda. ¡Qué simpática es ella! Por la noche, fuimos de tapeo. Fuimos a un bar de tapas que se llama La Juliana (C/Arrabial) y fue fantástico. Suzanne conoce a uno de los camareros—José. Pasamos casi cuatro horas bebiendo tinto de verano, comiendo tapas muy ricas, y jugando con 2 niñas lindísimas (hijas del dueño del restaurante). Regresé sobre la una y me acosté temprano (para España).
El viernes quedé con Cerena y Suzanne y andamos por el Albayzín. Pasamos un rato al Mirador San Nicolás y después comimos kebabs para la comida. No hice nada esa noche—estaba cansada y todavía estaba acostumbrándome al horario y a la vida española.
El sábado salí de marcha por primera vez en Granada. Empezábamos la noche a unos bares de tapa con Cerena, Suzanne, Alberto (el compañero de piso de Suzanne), y unos amigos de Alberto—David, Sergio (Tercio), José, y Fernando. Después de La Juliana (que ya es una tradición), fuimos a otro bar que se llama Los Grifos—un bar de tapas muy chulo. Quedamos allí hasta las doce, y luego fuimos a un concierto para ver un grupo de pop-rock que se llama Toulous (son de Granada). ¿Y después? Qué sorpresa, fuimos a otro bar—La Percha, que es más como una mezcla entre un bar y un club que toca la música de los años 80. A Suzanne y yo nos encantaba la Percha y la música. El último lugar que fuimos aquella noche fue una discoteca muy popular que se llama Vogue. Nunca tendría una noche así en los EE.UU—nunca. Pero aquí, es normal. (Sidenote: El viernes por la noche cuando mi compañera de piso regresé del trabajo y me vio, me dijo, “¿Y qué haces aquí? ¡Es viernes por la noche en España!”). La verdad es que no hicimos nada en especial—tomamos algunas bebidas, hablamos, bailamos un poco, y disfrutamos de estar con amigos.
10.17.2009
España, Mi Corazón
(Hi everyone! I know that it has been a while since I’ve written, but I am back to keeping everyone informed. Now that I am in Spain, I will be blogging in both English in Spanish. And if you speak Spanish, feel free to correct my mistakes as I’m sure there will be many! The next few entries may be a little sporadic as I don’t remember every detail of my month in Spain so far. I will update bit by bit, starting with a few things I’ve already written about but haven’t had time to update yet. Please do not feel obligated to read any or all of the next few and long entries!)
I have been in Spain for 13 days and I never want to leave. I arrived in Madrid on September 18th and I couldn’t believe that it had been 3 years—3 whole years have passed since the last time I was in Spain. Jesús and Pablo picked me up at the airport and we went to their house in Majadahonda, which is just outside Madrid. I feel so at home there, eating home-cooked Spanish food that Belén and Jesús’ mom made, and of course speaking in Spanish. We had sopa de ajo for lunch at 4:00pm, which is completely normal here. After siesta, we ate dinner at 9:30. Jesús and Belén brought to the Renfe train station the next morning and as were driving through Madrid, I saw sings for la Noche in Blanco. I realized then that I did in fact miss Madrid. As much as I wanted to stay in Madrid a little longer, I had to catch my train to Sevilla. I am so thankful to Jesús, Belén, and Pablo for letting me stay with them.
I was only in Sevilla for 2 days for my CIEE orientation and I met a ton of people there, including my friends Cerena and Suzanne who are also living in Granada. The first day we didn’t have any orientation sessions, so a few girls and I went for a walk through the city. We went to the Cathedral, the Giralda, and the Plaza de España. Then we went for tapas—my first tapas in Spain in a little more than 3 years. That night, there was a CIEE cocktail party where we all got to know each other. We spent the entire next day in orientation sessions learning about all the essentials of living in a foreign country—cell phones, apartments, bank accounts, how to get a residency permit, etc. Boring, but necessary.
Monday morning we went to our teaching destinations. I arrived in Granada and walked (1 mile!) with all of my luggage to my hostal (Hostal Nuevas Naciones)—a hostal that was really more like a hotel. I booked the hostal for 2 nights while I spent my days apartments hunting. Sure enough, 2 days later, I found an apartment. I only looked at 1 apartment and I decided to stay.
The apartment is located in a great, central area—5 minutes walking to the Cathedral. But the best part of my apartment is my flatmate Paz. She is so nice and I feel so comfortable with here. She is always telling me where to go and what to do in Granada. The first day I moved into the apartment, I met Paz at her store at 2:00pm (she owns a clothing and accessory store) and went for tapas. We went to a typical tapas bar and had tinto de verano. Then she brought me to the fresh fruit and vegetable market where we stopped at Paco’s stand—a place that I now go almost daily to get my fruit. I love my apartment, I love my flatmate, and I love Granada.
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Llevo 13 días en España y nunca quiero irme. Llegué a Madrid el 18 de septiembre y ya me sentía a casa en el aeropuerto. Jesús y Pablo me cogieron del aeropuerto y fuimos a su casa en Majadahonda que está un poco fuera de la capital. Me sentía a casa allí, comiendo comida española que hicieron Belén y la madre de Jesús, y hablando en español también. Comimos sopa de ajo para el almuerzo, y comimos a las 16.00 de la tarde, que es muy normal aquí. Después tomamos una siesta, y cenamos a las 9.30. Jesús y Belén me llevaron a la estación Renfe en la mañana y cogí el tren para Sevilla.
Solo estuve en Sevilla por 2 días para la orientación de CIEE y conocí a muchísima gente allí, incluso mis amigas Cerena y Suzanne que también están enseñando en Granada. El primer día no tuvimos reuniones, entonces fui con algunas otras chicas a caminar por la ciudad—fuimos a la Catedral, la Giralda, y la Plaza de España. Después fuimos de tapeo y comí mis primeras tapas en España en más que 3 años. La primera noche tuvimos un cocktail party donde todos nos conocimos un poco más. El día siguiente pasamos todo el día aprendiendo de las cosas esenciales de vivir en un país—los teléfonos, los apartamentos, las cuentas del banco, como conseguir nuestros permisos de residencia, etc. Aburrido, pero necesario.
El lunes por la mañana nos fuimos a nuestros sitios de enseñanza. Llegó a Granada y caminé (¡1 milla!) con todo mi equipaje a mi hostal—un hostal que era más como un hotel. Me quedé allí dos días mientras buscaba un piso en que vivir por el siguiente año de mi vida aquí en España. Dos días más tarde, encontré piso. Solo vi un piso y decidí quedarme.
La zona es muy buena y muy céntrica. Estoy cinco minutos andando a la Catedral. Pero la mejor parte del piso es mi compañera de piso—Paz. Ella es muy simpática y nos llevamos muy bien. Siempre está enseñándome cosas de la ciudad. El mismo día que mudé al piso, encontré Paz a su tienda (tiene una tiendo de ropa y accesorias) y me invitó a una tapa. Fuimos a un bar de tapas muy típico y tomamos tinto de verano con limón. Después, me enseñó la Frutería de Paco—un sitio donde yo voy diariamente para comprar fruta. Me encanta mi piso, me encanta mi compañera de piso, y me encanta Granada.
I have been in Spain for 13 days and I never want to leave. I arrived in Madrid on September 18th and I couldn’t believe that it had been 3 years—3 whole years have passed since the last time I was in Spain. Jesús and Pablo picked me up at the airport and we went to their house in Majadahonda, which is just outside Madrid. I feel so at home there, eating home-cooked Spanish food that Belén and Jesús’ mom made, and of course speaking in Spanish. We had sopa de ajo for lunch at 4:00pm, which is completely normal here. After siesta, we ate dinner at 9:30. Jesús and Belén brought to the Renfe train station the next morning and as were driving through Madrid, I saw sings for la Noche in Blanco. I realized then that I did in fact miss Madrid. As much as I wanted to stay in Madrid a little longer, I had to catch my train to Sevilla. I am so thankful to Jesús, Belén, and Pablo for letting me stay with them.
I was only in Sevilla for 2 days for my CIEE orientation and I met a ton of people there, including my friends Cerena and Suzanne who are also living in Granada. The first day we didn’t have any orientation sessions, so a few girls and I went for a walk through the city. We went to the Cathedral, the Giralda, and the Plaza de España. Then we went for tapas—my first tapas in Spain in a little more than 3 years. That night, there was a CIEE cocktail party where we all got to know each other. We spent the entire next day in orientation sessions learning about all the essentials of living in a foreign country—cell phones, apartments, bank accounts, how to get a residency permit, etc. Boring, but necessary.
Monday morning we went to our teaching destinations. I arrived in Granada and walked (1 mile!) with all of my luggage to my hostal (Hostal Nuevas Naciones)—a hostal that was really more like a hotel. I booked the hostal for 2 nights while I spent my days apartments hunting. Sure enough, 2 days later, I found an apartment. I only looked at 1 apartment and I decided to stay.
The apartment is located in a great, central area—5 minutes walking to the Cathedral. But the best part of my apartment is my flatmate Paz. She is so nice and I feel so comfortable with here. She is always telling me where to go and what to do in Granada. The first day I moved into the apartment, I met Paz at her store at 2:00pm (she owns a clothing and accessory store) and went for tapas. We went to a typical tapas bar and had tinto de verano. Then she brought me to the fresh fruit and vegetable market where we stopped at Paco’s stand—a place that I now go almost daily to get my fruit. I love my apartment, I love my flatmate, and I love Granada.
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Llevo 13 días en España y nunca quiero irme. Llegué a Madrid el 18 de septiembre y ya me sentía a casa en el aeropuerto. Jesús y Pablo me cogieron del aeropuerto y fuimos a su casa en Majadahonda que está un poco fuera de la capital. Me sentía a casa allí, comiendo comida española que hicieron Belén y la madre de Jesús, y hablando en español también. Comimos sopa de ajo para el almuerzo, y comimos a las 16.00 de la tarde, que es muy normal aquí. Después tomamos una siesta, y cenamos a las 9.30. Jesús y Belén me llevaron a la estación Renfe en la mañana y cogí el tren para Sevilla.
Solo estuve en Sevilla por 2 días para la orientación de CIEE y conocí a muchísima gente allí, incluso mis amigas Cerena y Suzanne que también están enseñando en Granada. El primer día no tuvimos reuniones, entonces fui con algunas otras chicas a caminar por la ciudad—fuimos a la Catedral, la Giralda, y la Plaza de España. Después fuimos de tapeo y comí mis primeras tapas en España en más que 3 años. La primera noche tuvimos un cocktail party donde todos nos conocimos un poco más. El día siguiente pasamos todo el día aprendiendo de las cosas esenciales de vivir en un país—los teléfonos, los apartamentos, las cuentas del banco, como conseguir nuestros permisos de residencia, etc. Aburrido, pero necesario.
El lunes por la mañana nos fuimos a nuestros sitios de enseñanza. Llegó a Granada y caminé (¡1 milla!) con todo mi equipaje a mi hostal—un hostal que era más como un hotel. Me quedé allí dos días mientras buscaba un piso en que vivir por el siguiente año de mi vida aquí en España. Dos días más tarde, encontré piso. Solo vi un piso y decidí quedarme.
La zona es muy buena y muy céntrica. Estoy cinco minutos andando a la Catedral. Pero la mejor parte del piso es mi compañera de piso—Paz. Ella es muy simpática y nos llevamos muy bien. Siempre está enseñándome cosas de la ciudad. El mismo día que mudé al piso, encontré Paz a su tienda (tiene una tiendo de ropa y accesorias) y me invitó a una tapa. Fuimos a un bar de tapas muy típico y tomamos tinto de verano con limón. Después, me enseñó la Frutería de Paco—un sitio donde yo voy diariamente para comprar fruta. Me encanta mi piso, me encanta mi compañera de piso, y me encanta Granada.
9.26.2009
Masks and Floods and Veneto, oh my! (Venezia)
Oh my gosh I LOVE VENICE! What a shock—as people always tell me, “you love every place you go!” This is true, but Venice is different. I am in love with this city—with the scenery, with the culture, and with the people.
I left early last Thursday morning (17 Sept.) for the 2 hour train ride from Bologna to Venezia and arrived at around 10:00. The Venice train station is like none I’ve ever seen before. When entering the train station, you feel as if you’re going to ride off straight into the water. There is water on both sides of the train tracks. Usually you can’t tell that you’re in a specific city until you leave the train station, but it already looks like Venice from the train.
When you walk out of the train station, you see water, a bridge, water taxis, and some more water. The buildings in Venice are colorful and old—they have all been damaged by the water, which I think gives Venice some of its charm.
It was a gorgeous day with sun and all—thank you, God. I turned left out of the train stations and started my journey to the Piazza San Marco. I love how there are no cars in Venice, although there is still traffic—tourist traffic and tons of it. The streets (most of them) are tiny and filled with people and shops. I passed an open air fruit market with some of the prettiest fruit I’ve ever seen. There were typical fruits shining with color—the oranges were the color of the tangerine crayola crayon and the peaches were a mixture of pink, red, and orange. There were other fruits that I’d never seen before too.
Shortly after the fruit market I stopped at a stand selling smoothies, fruit salad, and sangria (keep in mind that it was 10:30am!). I ordered a strawberry, raspberry, banana, and orange smoothie for breakfast that quite possibly could be the best smoothie I’ve ever tasted. It’s also possible that I felt this way because I was in Venice on a beautiful sunny day.
I walked through the Jewish ghetto and continued my journey to the Piazza San Marco. In some places, the streets were packed full of tourists and in others, I was the only person walking down the street. Every bridge I crossed and every piazza I came upon was a photo op and a wonderful place to simply enjoy the moment.
I ended up going to the Rialto Bridge and the Mercato Rialto before going to the Piazza San Marco. The bridge is enormous and has hundreds of people on it at all times of the days. The mercato is just on the other side of the bridge. It’s not as big as the Mercato San Lorenzo, but it is a great place to shop. There are masks and objects made from Murano glass everywhere.
After the mercato I headed for the Piazza San Marco. As I walked down the street leaving into the Piazza, I saw people walking away in bare feet with their pants rolled up to their knees, and when I entered the piazza, I understood why—it was flooded! There was water everywhere and platforms were set up around the piazza for people to walk on. I have never seen anything like this—people everywhere were walking around one of the most famous squares in the world without shoes. So I decided to join the crowd and also take off my shoes. There wasn’t much else to do but take some pictures and laugh about the rare occurrence of a flood in the Piazza San Marco. It was fantastic.
I walked around the square until I reached the Basilica where hundreds of people were standing on the platform trying to get a closer look at the church no one could go into because of the water. There were so many people on the platform that a police officer was controlling the “traffic!”
I exited the Piazza on the far right side and walked along the water. As you walk along, the contrast between the colorful buildings on one side, the water on the other, and all of the stands selling souvenirs in the middle seems strange—almost shocking.
There are also many painters trying to capture the beauty of Venice with oil on canvas. Many of the painters are quite pushy—walking up to tourists and trying to convince them that they are the best painters and paint the best quality paintings—insisting that shelling out 100 euros for a medium size painting is the “best price” you’ll find.
I steered clear of those painters and found one names Giovanni. He was an older man, maybe in his 60’s, waiting patiently to show people his life’s purpose—his paintings. I walked up to his stand because I was initially drawn in by the brilliant colors he uses in his paintings. I asked him how much his paintings cost and instead of giving me a price (he said, “Parliamo di questo piu tarde” (We’ll talk about that later)), he started to telling me about his career as a painter. He showed me how he paints different scenes in Venice—which brushes he uses, why he uses certain colors, etc. He also showed me all of his favorite paintings and explained each choice thoroughly. The first painting I saw was the one that I wanted—it was a painting of a quiet canal in Venice at sunset where the locals live, he told me. The sky was orange and pink, reflecting on the water. I told him that I liked that one because of the colors, but that I didn’t want to spend that much. So he showed me some smaller paintings that were similar and gives me a discount “perche parla bene l’italiano” (because you speak Italian well).
We continue to talk (all in Italian, of course) for the next 20 minutes. He asks me where I learned Italian, how long I will be in Italy, where I am going next, and what I like most about Italy. Before leaving, I ask him my new favorite question to ask locals—“Dov’e il tuo ristorante preferito?” (Where is your favorite restaurant?) He told me that his favorite restaurant was on an island in Venice about 2 hours away and to get there, you have to take 3 different boats. He saw the look on my face and understood that I didn’t have that much time, so he suggested another restaurant nearby. He took one of this business cards and drew a map on the back. He told me the place was a local favorite—all Italians, and that the food was simple, but delicious. He said the place was always busy and it was chaotic inside—waiters running around everywhere, cooks yelling out orders. It sounded perfect.
The restaurant—Trattoria Rivetta—was exactly as Giovanni described. It was tiny, and each table sat 6 people. If you were by yourself, they sat you at the first available spot. All of the waiters and cooks were speaking Veneto, as well as many of the people inside. Venetto is the Venitian dialect and it is very difficult to understand. The food was very simple and very tasty. I will always be thankful to Giovanni for giving me the map to that restaurant because it was such a typical Italian experience.
After lunch, I didn’t have much time left in Venice. I went back to the Piazza San Marco (now dry), got some gelato, and people watched for a little while. I then asked a local where I could catch the Vaporetto to go to the Ferrovia (train station). He pointed me in the right direction, I bought my ticket, and got on the next boat (the Vaporetto is like a bus, but on water). On the ride back, I was able to see some of the houses where the locals live. The front doors open up onto a small ledge and then there is water. People take their boats instead of their cars out to go shopping on the other side of town. It’s an amazing life.
I wandered around the train station area for a little while and then got on the train to head back to Bologna. I stared out the window until I couldn’t see the water anymore. Arrivederci Venezia…ci vediamo!
I left early last Thursday morning (17 Sept.) for the 2 hour train ride from Bologna to Venezia and arrived at around 10:00. The Venice train station is like none I’ve ever seen before. When entering the train station, you feel as if you’re going to ride off straight into the water. There is water on both sides of the train tracks. Usually you can’t tell that you’re in a specific city until you leave the train station, but it already looks like Venice from the train.
When you walk out of the train station, you see water, a bridge, water taxis, and some more water. The buildings in Venice are colorful and old—they have all been damaged by the water, which I think gives Venice some of its charm.
It was a gorgeous day with sun and all—thank you, God. I turned left out of the train stations and started my journey to the Piazza San Marco. I love how there are no cars in Venice, although there is still traffic—tourist traffic and tons of it. The streets (most of them) are tiny and filled with people and shops. I passed an open air fruit market with some of the prettiest fruit I’ve ever seen. There were typical fruits shining with color—the oranges were the color of the tangerine crayola crayon and the peaches were a mixture of pink, red, and orange. There were other fruits that I’d never seen before too.
Shortly after the fruit market I stopped at a stand selling smoothies, fruit salad, and sangria (keep in mind that it was 10:30am!). I ordered a strawberry, raspberry, banana, and orange smoothie for breakfast that quite possibly could be the best smoothie I’ve ever tasted. It’s also possible that I felt this way because I was in Venice on a beautiful sunny day.
I walked through the Jewish ghetto and continued my journey to the Piazza San Marco. In some places, the streets were packed full of tourists and in others, I was the only person walking down the street. Every bridge I crossed and every piazza I came upon was a photo op and a wonderful place to simply enjoy the moment.
I ended up going to the Rialto Bridge and the Mercato Rialto before going to the Piazza San Marco. The bridge is enormous and has hundreds of people on it at all times of the days. The mercato is just on the other side of the bridge. It’s not as big as the Mercato San Lorenzo, but it is a great place to shop. There are masks and objects made from Murano glass everywhere.
After the mercato I headed for the Piazza San Marco. As I walked down the street leaving into the Piazza, I saw people walking away in bare feet with their pants rolled up to their knees, and when I entered the piazza, I understood why—it was flooded! There was water everywhere and platforms were set up around the piazza for people to walk on. I have never seen anything like this—people everywhere were walking around one of the most famous squares in the world without shoes. So I decided to join the crowd and also take off my shoes. There wasn’t much else to do but take some pictures and laugh about the rare occurrence of a flood in the Piazza San Marco. It was fantastic.
I walked around the square until I reached the Basilica where hundreds of people were standing on the platform trying to get a closer look at the church no one could go into because of the water. There were so many people on the platform that a police officer was controlling the “traffic!”
I exited the Piazza on the far right side and walked along the water. As you walk along, the contrast between the colorful buildings on one side, the water on the other, and all of the stands selling souvenirs in the middle seems strange—almost shocking.
There are also many painters trying to capture the beauty of Venice with oil on canvas. Many of the painters are quite pushy—walking up to tourists and trying to convince them that they are the best painters and paint the best quality paintings—insisting that shelling out 100 euros for a medium size painting is the “best price” you’ll find.
I steered clear of those painters and found one names Giovanni. He was an older man, maybe in his 60’s, waiting patiently to show people his life’s purpose—his paintings. I walked up to his stand because I was initially drawn in by the brilliant colors he uses in his paintings. I asked him how much his paintings cost and instead of giving me a price (he said, “Parliamo di questo piu tarde” (We’ll talk about that later)), he started to telling me about his career as a painter. He showed me how he paints different scenes in Venice—which brushes he uses, why he uses certain colors, etc. He also showed me all of his favorite paintings and explained each choice thoroughly. The first painting I saw was the one that I wanted—it was a painting of a quiet canal in Venice at sunset where the locals live, he told me. The sky was orange and pink, reflecting on the water. I told him that I liked that one because of the colors, but that I didn’t want to spend that much. So he showed me some smaller paintings that were similar and gives me a discount “perche parla bene l’italiano” (because you speak Italian well).
We continue to talk (all in Italian, of course) for the next 20 minutes. He asks me where I learned Italian, how long I will be in Italy, where I am going next, and what I like most about Italy. Before leaving, I ask him my new favorite question to ask locals—“Dov’e il tuo ristorante preferito?” (Where is your favorite restaurant?) He told me that his favorite restaurant was on an island in Venice about 2 hours away and to get there, you have to take 3 different boats. He saw the look on my face and understood that I didn’t have that much time, so he suggested another restaurant nearby. He took one of this business cards and drew a map on the back. He told me the place was a local favorite—all Italians, and that the food was simple, but delicious. He said the place was always busy and it was chaotic inside—waiters running around everywhere, cooks yelling out orders. It sounded perfect.
The restaurant—Trattoria Rivetta—was exactly as Giovanni described. It was tiny, and each table sat 6 people. If you were by yourself, they sat you at the first available spot. All of the waiters and cooks were speaking Veneto, as well as many of the people inside. Venetto is the Venitian dialect and it is very difficult to understand. The food was very simple and very tasty. I will always be thankful to Giovanni for giving me the map to that restaurant because it was such a typical Italian experience.
After lunch, I didn’t have much time left in Venice. I went back to the Piazza San Marco (now dry), got some gelato, and people watched for a little while. I then asked a local where I could catch the Vaporetto to go to the Ferrovia (train station). He pointed me in the right direction, I bought my ticket, and got on the next boat (the Vaporetto is like a bus, but on water). On the ride back, I was able to see some of the houses where the locals live. The front doors open up onto a small ledge and then there is water. People take their boats instead of their cars out to go shopping on the other side of town. It’s an amazing life.
I wandered around the train station area for a little while and then got on the train to head back to Bologna. I stared out the window until I couldn’t see the water anymore. Arrivederci Venezia…ci vediamo!
When life gives you lemons, make Limoncello
(Firenze: Parte due)
Day two in Florence started at 7:30am. We left the hostel to get an early start on everything we needed to see today that we couldn’t see yesterday. I love how everything in Florence is open early—walking down the streets, there are cafés and bars open, people going to work, and shop owners opening their stores for the day. We had some breakfast in a small caffé and then walked to the Accademia, which opens at 8:15am. When we got there at 8:30, there was a line about 50 people deep and it took us about a half hour to get in.
When we got into the museum, it was packed! Melinda and I planned to meet back at the front in 2 hours. This museum (other than the Prado) might be my favorite museum of all time. I was fascinated by every object in every room.
The first room I went into was the musical instrument museum room where they displayed one of the first pianofortes. They explained how the piano worked and had a place where you could play the piano and watch its inner workings while playing.
Next, I saw the David—absolutely incredible. I dropped in on a few tour groups listening to their guide talk about how some of the David—a sculpture meant to be the perfect man—has been damaged over the years. There is a crack in his right hand, as well as a big piece of stone missing from his right toe due to some crazy man who came into the Accademia and started hitting the statue with a hammer a few years ago.
My favorite room in the museum, though, was the 19th century sculpture room. Every sculpture was perfectly beautiful in its own way. They are perfectly formed, almost looking like frozen bodies. Each sculpture represents a part of the Florentine culture of the past and gives you a an idea of how people lived.
We walked to the train station to get our tickets to our respective destinations and passed through the Chiesa Santa Maria Novella—my favorite church in Florence. It has an incredible altar—a huge stained glass window stretches from ceiling to floor surrounded by hundreds of paintings.
Next we went to the Mercato San Lorenzo—the biggest outdoor market in Florence full of traditional Florentine items and lots of leather! There were beautiful leather shoes, purses, and wallets that were irresistible. I bought so many great gifts here. We had lunch near the mercato at a place called Mama Toscana—a funky (in a good way) and lively traditional Tuscan restaurant.
We walked around after lunch and went to Dante’s house (thanks St. Mary’s for teaching me about Dante!) and reminisced about the joy and misery of reading “Dante’s Inferno.” We then went into a great bookstore that had a book entitled: "When life gives you lemons, make Limoncello." I love this title--it's so...Florence.
The last place we went in Florence was one of my favorite activities—the Palazzo Vecchio. Melinda and I had booked a tour called the “Activities Tour—Secret Passageways” earlier in the morning. There were only 12 people in our tour group (the maximum) and our guide took us to all of the places in the Palazzo not open to the general public. Not only did she take us there, but she also took us through secret passageways in the literal sense.
Throughout the Palazzo, the Medici family built secret passageways from one room to another. There were small staircases built into the walls of the Palazzo. The first room we went into was called the “studiolo” (study). It was in the shape of a giant treasure box. There were faded paintings on the ceiling and paintings all over the walls and the paintings on the walls were actually secret hiding places. All of the paintings required a key to open and one of the paintings was a door leading to another staircase which led to a smaller room. This room belonged to Cosimo Medici. It was also shaped like a treasure chest with places to hide treasures behind each painting.
We concluded the tour by going into a huge room that looked almost like it should be a church. However, our guide made it clear that this room was never meant to be used for religious purposes—it was used for general assemblies and political gatherings. The entire ceiling was covered in paintings which have only ever been taken down twice, once during WWII. We went upstairs and were able to see how the paintings were held up by a suspension system in the roof so strong that the paintings can never be damages. It was amazing.
After the tour, we walked back to the hostel and stopped in a fantastic shop to get
some olive oil (the man who owned the shop had been making olive oil for 30 years). I got my backpack and walked to the train station. I never wanted to leave Florence…
Day two in Florence started at 7:30am. We left the hostel to get an early start on everything we needed to see today that we couldn’t see yesterday. I love how everything in Florence is open early—walking down the streets, there are cafés and bars open, people going to work, and shop owners opening their stores for the day. We had some breakfast in a small caffé and then walked to the Accademia, which opens at 8:15am. When we got there at 8:30, there was a line about 50 people deep and it took us about a half hour to get in.
When we got into the museum, it was packed! Melinda and I planned to meet back at the front in 2 hours. This museum (other than the Prado) might be my favorite museum of all time. I was fascinated by every object in every room.
The first room I went into was the musical instrument museum room where they displayed one of the first pianofortes. They explained how the piano worked and had a place where you could play the piano and watch its inner workings while playing.
Next, I saw the David—absolutely incredible. I dropped in on a few tour groups listening to their guide talk about how some of the David—a sculpture meant to be the perfect man—has been damaged over the years. There is a crack in his right hand, as well as a big piece of stone missing from his right toe due to some crazy man who came into the Accademia and started hitting the statue with a hammer a few years ago.
My favorite room in the museum, though, was the 19th century sculpture room. Every sculpture was perfectly beautiful in its own way. They are perfectly formed, almost looking like frozen bodies. Each sculpture represents a part of the Florentine culture of the past and gives you a an idea of how people lived.
We walked to the train station to get our tickets to our respective destinations and passed through the Chiesa Santa Maria Novella—my favorite church in Florence. It has an incredible altar—a huge stained glass window stretches from ceiling to floor surrounded by hundreds of paintings.
Next we went to the Mercato San Lorenzo—the biggest outdoor market in Florence full of traditional Florentine items and lots of leather! There were beautiful leather shoes, purses, and wallets that were irresistible. I bought so many great gifts here. We had lunch near the mercato at a place called Mama Toscana—a funky (in a good way) and lively traditional Tuscan restaurant.
We walked around after lunch and went to Dante’s house (thanks St. Mary’s for teaching me about Dante!) and reminisced about the joy and misery of reading “Dante’s Inferno.” We then went into a great bookstore that had a book entitled: "When life gives you lemons, make Limoncello." I love this title--it's so...Florence.
The last place we went in Florence was one of my favorite activities—the Palazzo Vecchio. Melinda and I had booked a tour called the “Activities Tour—Secret Passageways” earlier in the morning. There were only 12 people in our tour group (the maximum) and our guide took us to all of the places in the Palazzo not open to the general public. Not only did she take us there, but she also took us through secret passageways in the literal sense.
Throughout the Palazzo, the Medici family built secret passageways from one room to another. There were small staircases built into the walls of the Palazzo. The first room we went into was called the “studiolo” (study). It was in the shape of a giant treasure box. There were faded paintings on the ceiling and paintings all over the walls and the paintings on the walls were actually secret hiding places. All of the paintings required a key to open and one of the paintings was a door leading to another staircase which led to a smaller room. This room belonged to Cosimo Medici. It was also shaped like a treasure chest with places to hide treasures behind each painting.
We concluded the tour by going into a huge room that looked almost like it should be a church. However, our guide made it clear that this room was never meant to be used for religious purposes—it was used for general assemblies and political gatherings. The entire ceiling was covered in paintings which have only ever been taken down twice, once during WWII. We went upstairs and were able to see how the paintings were held up by a suspension system in the roof so strong that the paintings can never be damages. It was amazing.
After the tour, we walked back to the hostel and stopped in a fantastic shop to get
some olive oil (the man who owned the shop had been making olive oil for 30 years). I got my backpack and walked to the train station. I never wanted to leave Florence…
9.24.2009
When life gives you lemons, make limoncello!
Firenze (Parte 1)
Florence is a city full of beautiful leather, wonderful food, fascinating museums, jaw-dropping monuments, and much, much more. I was only in Florence for 31 hours and I already can’t wait for my next trip.
I arrived in Florence last Monday afternoon (Sept. 14) at the Santa Maria Novella train station after a 2 hour delay in Prato due to an extremely frightening thunder and lightning storm. I stepped out of the train station into the pouring rain wearing capris, a t-shirt, and flip-flops—the complete opposite of what I should have been wearing (a raincoat, jeans, and tennis shoes!). Needless to say, I was not at all excited for the 30 minute walk to my hostel. So I started my seemingly endless trek to the Ostello Santa Monica with map in hand, but still asking directions every few streets just to be sure I was going the right way. Forty minutes later, I walked into the front door of the hostel sopping wet, starving, freezing cold, and smiling. I didn’t care that it was raining because I was in one of Italy’s most beautiful cities. I am in complete agreement with Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love author)—“Traveling is the great true love of my life…I feel about travel the way a happy new mother feels about her impossibly, colicky, restless newborn baby—I just don’t care what it puts me through. Because I adore it. Because it’s mine.”
As I was checking into the hostel trying to figure out what the heck I was going to do and see in the pouring rain, I met another girl (Melinda) from California also traveling by herself. We were both going to be in Florence for 2 days and I decided to see Florence together—and I am so glad we did.
It was 2:00pm and neither of us had eaten, so we decided to go try to find the most local restaurant possible for a real Tuscan meal. We ended up at a small Trattoria down a pedestrian-only street near the Duomo. It was full of locals (always a sign of a good restaurant) and when we sat down to eat the bread, we remembered that bread in Tuscany doesn’t have salt. I like that about Florence—it’s different and unique to the Tuscan region. Melinda doesn’t speak any Italian and the waiters didn’t speak English, so I ordered for us. I always gain a lot of confidence in my language abilities when traveling by myself. I spoke a lot of Italian in Florence and loved it. After a fantastic meal of tagliatelle (fettuccine) con funghi and getting to know each other, Melinda and I headed for the Duomo (Santa Maria dei Fiori).
Now, I didn’t prepare for my trip to Florence as much as I usually prepare for trips—I didn’t have a guidebook, I didn’t know a lot about the city’s appearance, and I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to see. Because of this, though, I think seeing the Duomo was even more amazing. Walking into the Duomo—one of the most famous cathedrals ever—I was expecting something detailed and ornate like many other churches in Europe, but even more beautiful. Instead, the walls inside are oddly blank—plain white, simple. Nothing about the interior of the Santa Maria dei Fiori seems particularly eye-catching until you reach the altar and look up at Brunelleschi’s Dome. I have seen many beautiful paintings in churches throughout Europe, but nothing like this. This was special—the kind of thing everyone deserves to see once in their lifetime. We climbed 500 steps to the top of the Duomo for a beautiful view of the city, and then rewarded ourselves with our first gelato in Florence.
We spent the next few hours wandering around the streets of Florence in the rain. There is always something amazing to see in Florence, no matter where you are. We would pick a random street to walk down, take a few left turns, and end up in a gorgeous piazza or in front of a famous monument. At one point we ended up at a synagogue in a more local part of the city.
We headed back toward the hostel around 10:00pm and stopped at a delicious pizzeria on the way for some margherita pizza. Day one in Florence was a success!
Florence is a city full of beautiful leather, wonderful food, fascinating museums, jaw-dropping monuments, and much, much more. I was only in Florence for 31 hours and I already can’t wait for my next trip.
I arrived in Florence last Monday afternoon (Sept. 14) at the Santa Maria Novella train station after a 2 hour delay in Prato due to an extremely frightening thunder and lightning storm. I stepped out of the train station into the pouring rain wearing capris, a t-shirt, and flip-flops—the complete opposite of what I should have been wearing (a raincoat, jeans, and tennis shoes!). Needless to say, I was not at all excited for the 30 minute walk to my hostel. So I started my seemingly endless trek to the Ostello Santa Monica with map in hand, but still asking directions every few streets just to be sure I was going the right way. Forty minutes later, I walked into the front door of the hostel sopping wet, starving, freezing cold, and smiling. I didn’t care that it was raining because I was in one of Italy’s most beautiful cities. I am in complete agreement with Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love author)—“Traveling is the great true love of my life…I feel about travel the way a happy new mother feels about her impossibly, colicky, restless newborn baby—I just don’t care what it puts me through. Because I adore it. Because it’s mine.”
As I was checking into the hostel trying to figure out what the heck I was going to do and see in the pouring rain, I met another girl (Melinda) from California also traveling by herself. We were both going to be in Florence for 2 days and I decided to see Florence together—and I am so glad we did.
It was 2:00pm and neither of us had eaten, so we decided to go try to find the most local restaurant possible for a real Tuscan meal. We ended up at a small Trattoria down a pedestrian-only street near the Duomo. It was full of locals (always a sign of a good restaurant) and when we sat down to eat the bread, we remembered that bread in Tuscany doesn’t have salt. I like that about Florence—it’s different and unique to the Tuscan region. Melinda doesn’t speak any Italian and the waiters didn’t speak English, so I ordered for us. I always gain a lot of confidence in my language abilities when traveling by myself. I spoke a lot of Italian in Florence and loved it. After a fantastic meal of tagliatelle (fettuccine) con funghi and getting to know each other, Melinda and I headed for the Duomo (Santa Maria dei Fiori).
Now, I didn’t prepare for my trip to Florence as much as I usually prepare for trips—I didn’t have a guidebook, I didn’t know a lot about the city’s appearance, and I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to see. Because of this, though, I think seeing the Duomo was even more amazing. Walking into the Duomo—one of the most famous cathedrals ever—I was expecting something detailed and ornate like many other churches in Europe, but even more beautiful. Instead, the walls inside are oddly blank—plain white, simple. Nothing about the interior of the Santa Maria dei Fiori seems particularly eye-catching until you reach the altar and look up at Brunelleschi’s Dome. I have seen many beautiful paintings in churches throughout Europe, but nothing like this. This was special—the kind of thing everyone deserves to see once in their lifetime. We climbed 500 steps to the top of the Duomo for a beautiful view of the city, and then rewarded ourselves with our first gelato in Florence.
We spent the next few hours wandering around the streets of Florence in the rain. There is always something amazing to see in Florence, no matter where you are. We would pick a random street to walk down, take a few left turns, and end up in a gorgeous piazza or in front of a famous monument. At one point we ended up at a synagogue in a more local part of the city.
We headed back toward the hostel around 10:00pm and stopped at a delicious pizzeria on the way for some margherita pizza. Day one in Florence was a success!
9.18.2009
La Dolce Vita in Italia (Bologna)
I arrived in Bologna, Italy via train last Wednesday evening (9 September) and since then have eaten the most incredible meal I’ve ever tasted, gone for gelato far too many times, climbed the Duomo in Florence, taken pictures on the Ponte Rialto in Venice, and spoken lots and lots of Italian.
The train ride from Paris to Bologna was long, but entertaining. For the first few hours of the trip, everyone was speaking French. The guards who came by every few stops to check passports and train tickets all spoke French, and I responded “Merci.” After about 4 hours, we went through a long 40 minute tunnel and made our first stop in Italy immediately. Suddenly, everyone on the train spoke Italian, and when the guards came by to check our passports, I now responded, “Grazie.”
While in Italy, I am staying with our good family friends, the Caruso’s, who live in Bologna. We spent my first few days in Bologna preparing for and celebrating Ale’s 11th birthday. We went shopping for food, stuffed the piñata, decorated the garden and the cake, and made mini pizzas (from scratch!). In between preparing for the party, Laura and I saw a movie in Italian at a one screen movie theater (it was an old-fashioned theater—one where they change the movie once a week and there was an intermission in the middle of the movie), ate the best gelato in Bologna at Il Gelato di Fini, walked dogs from the pound, and went swimming.
Ale’s party was last Thursday night and everyone had a great time. Ale’s friends and their parents are all very international—one of the mom’s is married to a German, another mom speaks Spanish, and another mom is from Madrid. I have to say that speaking Spanish in Italy was great fun. That night Ale’s friend Martina slept over and the three of us watched the Hannah Montana Movie in Italian.
The next day, Ale’s actual birthday, was unbelievably and unexpectedly fun. We woke up early to go to a theme park near Bologna called Mirabilandia—a mix between Great America and Disneyland. We met Martina’s parents and little sister Beatrice at the park and went inside. I hadn’t been to a theme park in maybe 10 years, and I’m not a huge fan of big roller coasters, so I was a little nervous, but also excited. We ended up going on pretty calm rides and had a blast. Coincidentally, we saw two sets of cousins at the theme park. The first group of cousins just stopped by to say hi, but the second group of cousins joined us and we spent the rest of the day with them! Letizia, the cousin closest to Ale’s age, kept speaking to me in Italy and I loved it!
We left Mirabilandia around 5:30 and drove to the beach for dinner—a night and a meal I will never ever forget. The beach was in a town called Punta Marina not far from the theme park. When we got there, we went in to say hello to the owners of the restaurant, who the Caruso’s know. Max, one of the owners, is a professional volleyball player when summer ends and his sister was the captain of the Olympic Italian volleyball team. Max’s mom is also one of the cooks for the restaurant. After saying hi to everyone and ordering our food, Ale, Martina and I went swimming in the “bay.” It was like the ocean, but much warmer. We played in the waves for about an hour and by the time we were done, dinner was ready.
The food was FANTASTIC—hands down the best meal I have ever tasted. When we ordered our food earlier, I didn’t know what to get because everything was fish, so Paul and Laura ordered for me. I wasn’t sure what to expect because I am somewhat new to eating fish. The result was more than I ever could have expected—spaghetti with 7 different types of fish: shrimp (gamberetti), prawns (gamberoni), crab (cranchio), clams (gongole), muscles (cozze), scampi, and conochie. At the table we were speaking a mix of Italian, Spanish and English (Martina and Bea’s parents speak Spanish) and enjoying an unforgettable meal. For dessert we had homemade crepes filled with jam and nutella. After dinner, Martina, Ale, Paul and I played beach volleyball for a while before going home. It was an incredible night and one that words could never justly describe.
The next day I went to Ale’s softball game and then we went into downtown Bologna. We climbed to the top of the tower for a view of the city and then climbed to the Church of San Luca—a beautiful, hilltop church that you can see from almost everywhere in Bologna.
Skipping ahead a few days, my last night in Bologna was yesterday. After getting home from Venice, we went out to dinner at a delicious, local restaurant in Bologna for some traditional Bolognese food. Then we went for my last gelato in Italy…for a while at least.
So that was my trip to Bologna in a nutshell. THANK YOU Caruso family for letting me stay with you—I had a wonderful time with you all. Still to come—blogs about my trips to Florence and Venice. Ciao!
The train ride from Paris to Bologna was long, but entertaining. For the first few hours of the trip, everyone was speaking French. The guards who came by every few stops to check passports and train tickets all spoke French, and I responded “Merci.” After about 4 hours, we went through a long 40 minute tunnel and made our first stop in Italy immediately. Suddenly, everyone on the train spoke Italian, and when the guards came by to check our passports, I now responded, “Grazie.”
While in Italy, I am staying with our good family friends, the Caruso’s, who live in Bologna. We spent my first few days in Bologna preparing for and celebrating Ale’s 11th birthday. We went shopping for food, stuffed the piñata, decorated the garden and the cake, and made mini pizzas (from scratch!). In between preparing for the party, Laura and I saw a movie in Italian at a one screen movie theater (it was an old-fashioned theater—one where they change the movie once a week and there was an intermission in the middle of the movie), ate the best gelato in Bologna at Il Gelato di Fini, walked dogs from the pound, and went swimming.
Ale’s party was last Thursday night and everyone had a great time. Ale’s friends and their parents are all very international—one of the mom’s is married to a German, another mom speaks Spanish, and another mom is from Madrid. I have to say that speaking Spanish in Italy was great fun. That night Ale’s friend Martina slept over and the three of us watched the Hannah Montana Movie in Italian.
The next day, Ale’s actual birthday, was unbelievably and unexpectedly fun. We woke up early to go to a theme park near Bologna called Mirabilandia—a mix between Great America and Disneyland. We met Martina’s parents and little sister Beatrice at the park and went inside. I hadn’t been to a theme park in maybe 10 years, and I’m not a huge fan of big roller coasters, so I was a little nervous, but also excited. We ended up going on pretty calm rides and had a blast. Coincidentally, we saw two sets of cousins at the theme park. The first group of cousins just stopped by to say hi, but the second group of cousins joined us and we spent the rest of the day with them! Letizia, the cousin closest to Ale’s age, kept speaking to me in Italy and I loved it!
We left Mirabilandia around 5:30 and drove to the beach for dinner—a night and a meal I will never ever forget. The beach was in a town called Punta Marina not far from the theme park. When we got there, we went in to say hello to the owners of the restaurant, who the Caruso’s know. Max, one of the owners, is a professional volleyball player when summer ends and his sister was the captain of the Olympic Italian volleyball team. Max’s mom is also one of the cooks for the restaurant. After saying hi to everyone and ordering our food, Ale, Martina and I went swimming in the “bay.” It was like the ocean, but much warmer. We played in the waves for about an hour and by the time we were done, dinner was ready.
The food was FANTASTIC—hands down the best meal I have ever tasted. When we ordered our food earlier, I didn’t know what to get because everything was fish, so Paul and Laura ordered for me. I wasn’t sure what to expect because I am somewhat new to eating fish. The result was more than I ever could have expected—spaghetti with 7 different types of fish: shrimp (gamberetti), prawns (gamberoni), crab (cranchio), clams (gongole), muscles (cozze), scampi, and conochie. At the table we were speaking a mix of Italian, Spanish and English (Martina and Bea’s parents speak Spanish) and enjoying an unforgettable meal. For dessert we had homemade crepes filled with jam and nutella. After dinner, Martina, Ale, Paul and I played beach volleyball for a while before going home. It was an incredible night and one that words could never justly describe.
The next day I went to Ale’s softball game and then we went into downtown Bologna. We climbed to the top of the tower for a view of the city and then climbed to the Church of San Luca—a beautiful, hilltop church that you can see from almost everywhere in Bologna.
Skipping ahead a few days, my last night in Bologna was yesterday. After getting home from Venice, we went out to dinner at a delicious, local restaurant in Bologna for some traditional Bolognese food. Then we went for my last gelato in Italy…for a while at least.
So that was my trip to Bologna in a nutshell. THANK YOU Caruso family for letting me stay with you—I had a wonderful time with you all. Still to come—blogs about my trips to Florence and Venice. Ciao!
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About Me
- Kel
- I am 28 years old and learning to live my life with the daily struggles of mental illness. My illnesses are a significant part of my life, but they are not all that I am. I am a teacher, daughter, sister, aunt, and friend, too. I'm starting this blog to chronicle my passions, goals, challenges and victories. I want to remind myself that I have come through many seemingly impossible situations, and I will continue to fights for the experiences like the ones I write about in this blog.