Okay, cheesiest last blog heading ever. WHATEVER. It’s a good song and is a perfectly adequate title. Sorry, I’m not sorry. Unfortunately for you and for me, a final blog post means that it’s all come to an end. And just like that, the semester is gone. It’s been a good while since I’ve last written, but I cannot express to you in words just how jam packed my life has been since then. Never a dull moment. Even the ones where nothing was happening were anything but boring. As I sit here on the 8 hour 25 minute plane ride back to New York City, New York, United States of America, I’ll take you on an adventure--my adventure--back in time.
Post-Jacobs Fam Reunion & Pompei Peni….On to Elena’s Visit & Greece
So as you know, after a stressful and tiring fun and exciting week with the Jacobs clan, I took a little trip with my school down to the dirty souf to Pompei and Sorrento. Recap: Big Lemons and some representation of a penis everywhere (pl. Peni, pronounced PEE-nahy). Two weekends later, I went on another school trip to the small towns of Arezzo and Cortona. If you are ever visiting Toscana, please go see these little treasures. Both very small, quaint towns, you feel as if you’re actually in Italy instead of the tourist bubble that makes up my beloved Firenze. (Another SUPER tiny town to check out if you have time-Rignano sull'Arno.) Not much else to say besides I enjoyed these towns very much so, and I would love to stay at a little B&B there if I ever got the chance to go back.
Another week off, then the following week a good friend of mine, Elena, came with a friend I met in Spain, Maddie, and the 3 of us had a field day soaking up the city. I acted as tour guide, and I have to say, I think I did a pretty darn good job. Just ask Elena & Maddie. Tour guiding skills=GOLDEN. Basically a lot of sightseeing and a LOT of eating. Probably had gelato and pizza 300 times in the span of 4 days. So thank you, ladies, for making the impossible task of getting sick of these 2 food items close to being possible. The weekend was such a blast, and I was more than sad to see them go. But such is life, c'est la vie.
Corfu, Greece aka SHUTTER ISLAND
Please tell me you’ve seen the movie or read the book Shutter Island with the “like a fine wine-only gets better with age” Leonardo DiCaprio. If not, go see/read it. I know some people thought it was predictable (cough Bree cough), but I thought it was thoroughly entertaining. Anyway, the gist of the story: there’s some doctor dude and you can’t get off the creepy island. Gist of my weekend: there’s some doctor dude and you can’t get off the creepy island. Freaky, huh? I now have a comment to make that I will back up 100%, and I hope you all take heed to it. The Florence based company Florence for Fun (FFF) is quite possibly the WORST company ever. Don’t ever give them any of your money, and if you have loved ones make sure they stay away from them at all costs. This is not a joke, people. If you could see my face right now, you would see that I am anything but smiling. SO, FFF was the fabulous reason my friends and I were getting to go to Corfu. It was advertised as a 2-day cruise for travel and 3-night stay in Greece. I don’t have a dictionary available in my back pocket at all times, so I’m not really sure what the definition for “cruise” is, but I’m preeeeetty sure it’s nothing along the lines of “every obnoxious American studying abroad crammed into one room where you have to sleep in airplane style seats for 24 hours.” But please, correct me if I’m mistaken. After the 5 hour bus ride to Ancona, then the “cruise” from Ancona to Greece, then a 20 minute hike to a ferry, then a 2 hour ferry, and finally another 30 minute bus ride to Corfu, I was a little tired of this trip already. BUT after all that, we were finally in Greece, and so life really couldn’t be all that bad. When we arrived at The Pink Palace (I can’t call it a hostel or a hotel ‘cause I don’t really know what you’d call it…a brothel maybe?) we threw our bags down in the nasty room and went straight to the beach. If you want to imagine what this place was like, picture that there was a massive pepto bismol explosion and everything, I mean eh-vry-thing, was pink. I love pink just as much if not more than the next guy, but this was pink overload. Also, I know that countries that aren’t the U.S. are a little slack on their safety and health codes, but this was a joke. Elevated wooden walkways with no railings next to the concrete pool area perfect for drunk kids to fall off of, slippery slopes, lots of stairs, a hot tub which I’m pretty sure was breeding every STD out there, and so on. But what can you do in a situation like that? Laugh. So we tried to do just that. When it came time to get lunch, we were dying to get some Gyros with delicious tzaziki, saganaki, and some souvlaki. We wanted legit, authentic Greek food, and judging by the looks of this place, the Pink Palace was not where we were going to get it. So we trekked all the way up the hill to reception to ask where a local restaurant in the town was. This is where it gets weird. The woman at the desk said, “Oh, well at this time everything’s still closed since it’s before Easter, so the best food you’re going to get is down at our Poolside Café.” UHHH, okay? Maybe it was the creepy tone she said it in, but trust me, it was bizarre. So we went back down to the poolside café and asked for some gyros. What’s that you said creepy cook? You’re out of gyros? Oh, great. Well in that case, give me whatever else you have that’s remotely similar to food. To add to the creepy factor, everyone was Australian. Now wait a minute before you take that the wrong way and let me explain. When you’re in Greece, you expect some of the staff members, at least ONE of the staff members, to be Greek. Also, the head woman at FFF was Australian. Coincidence? I think not. When we asked for a poolside drink, the head creepy creeper, a 50+ year old woman who had mischief in her eyes, attempted to take our order. We asked for a mojito and a margarita. Pretty simple. “We don’t have those things.” Okay, well lemme just take a peek at your OWN drink menu which is at YOUR bar. After requesting 3 different drinks off the list, Creeptown goes “Yeah, I wouldn’t look at that list. You're not gonna have much luck.” Well then why the hell is it at your bar?? Just plain odd. So I finally say, “Well, what CAN you give me?” And like Shutter Island where they try to make you think you have a choice when you really don’t, Creepy McCreeper says to us, “Well do you like vodka? We have vodka. Here we have a really good vodka drink. Try this. It’s the Blue Lagoon. There you go. That’ll be 5 euro.” Whatever, lady. I’ll take your stupid drink. Not because I like either you or the drink, but because I want to get as far away from you as possible ASAP. Oh, also, on one of the drink machines there was a handmade sign that said, “Want Sex?” No. I don’t actually. But thanks? It was the little things like that, and the fact that there were posters with “Dr. George wants YOU at the Pink Palace!” that put together the ambience of The Pink Palace. Who is this mysterious Dr. George and why does he want ME? These are questions to which the answers are ones I will never know. We headed down to the beach and actually started to enjoy ourselves somewhat. Laying on a lawn chair, soaking in the sun is one of my best skills. But of course, all good things must come to an end, and we were rudely interrupted by a group of 30 loud, drunk, obnoxious kids from California. Think Frat Real Frat (but not in the good way like Rome tour guide Maurizio) and girls with bathing suits that looked more like a couple pieces of cloth and string. Needless to say, these kids were LOVING every moment of Barnum and Bailey’s Trashiest Place on Earth. One of the bros made sure to drunkenly yell loud enough (in reference to my friends and I) “I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY PEOPLE ARE SO TAME. LIKE, YOU CAN TAN AND SLEEP BACK HOME. LET’S RAGE!” Yeah, dudebra, you can also get wasted at 11am and act like an idiot back home, too, but you don’t hear me making any comments, do you? Oh, and tell your girlfriend to get a bathing suit that’s at least 3x bigger (what is that, a bathing suit for ants?? Zoolander reference, anyone?) That night, there was a dance party at the Palladium, so everyone went to that. I love to dance with my ladies, and we surprisingly had a great time. Don’t tell Creepy Ferguson that I actually liked something about her stupid place. The next day, pretty much the same thing, except my friends and I who weren’t into the whole "be wasted 24/7 and stay only at the PP" thing decided to disregard receptionist’s advice and take a cab into town for dinner. Best. Decision. Ever. Remember when the lady told us that everything was closed? FALSE. Remember when she told us that the best gyros we were going to get were at the PP poolside café? FALSE. Everything had been a lie, and we had figured them out. Nice try, Pink Palace. We walked around, shopped, saw the cute sights of Corfu City, and got dinner. After dinner, we struggled to force ourselves to get a cab back to that Hell hole in time for the Toga party. Yeah, gag me now. I don’t want to wear your stupid, ugly pink piece of cloth and call it a toga. Yeah, I heard what happened here once. One of the staff pulled off some girl’s toga out of nowhere and the whole place got a view they didn’t pay for. I plan to be thoroughly covered underneath my toga in case of any “incidents” like the former. One of my best friends Bree was turning 21 that night at midnight, and try as hard as we could, there was no way we could make that hot mess of a toga party into something enjoyable and fun. So Bree, Lizzie, and I decided to head back to the room to eat some baklava we had bought earlier that day and just enjoy each other’s company chatting. NICE. What went on at the PP that night while we attempted to sleep in our rooms, I have no idea, but I don’t wanna know. The next morning, Lizzie, Bree and I decided to get up early and spend some more time in town. It was Easter Sunday, and of course the receptionist told us everything was going to be closed and people were going to be in church all morning. What she failed to tell us was that this was completely not true because there were parades and processions throughout the streets, tons of people out and about with their families, and even most of the shops and restaurants were open. We got there just in time because the Greek Orthodox Church had this incredible procession right in front of us complete with drummers, trumpets, and funny looking fuzzy hats. I’m obviously not Greek Orthodox, but the whole experience was so neat and really touching in a way. After that, the three of us got lunch at this low key place that had lamb roasting over a fire out front, and holy Easter Bunny, this was the best Greek food I’ve ever had in my life. Now THAT’S what you call authentic gyros and souvlaki. The owner of the restaurant was so nice and really funny. Basically, this was the Greece that I had come to see and experience, and it was so amazing that I could (almost) forgive all the trouble that the PP had given me. After spending a couple hours on a beautiful day walking around Corfu City, we took a cab back to the PP to get ready to leave. Don’t worry, even the whole event of leaving was miserable. Completely unorganized and our bus driver rolled our bus into the bus behind us. It’s not like I thought I was gonna die or anything. The travel was the same on the way back, except this time we forked over 20 euro each to get a room for the overnight “cruise”. Best 20 euro I ever spent. And with that, Greece was over. Luckily we made it out alive and unbrainwashed, but I don’t think some others faired so well. Moral of the story kids: If you’re looking for a place to be super trashy and get wasted, but you still want people to accept and encourage you, you know where to go.
Twenty-FUN!
Had a large home cooked 21st birthday meal with all of my friends at my apartment, then went out for legal-in-every-country drinking and dancing. Birthday in ITALY. There’s not much else to say. Oh, except that I did manage to make it out the next morning for wine tasting at the Count’s estate up in the Chianti Hills, not looking too shabby either. Best birthday present ever? Getting to hold a copy of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn signed by MARK TWAIN himself. What will the Count come up with next?
Festivale d’Europa, Notte Bianca, and Notte Blu
What Florence lacked in cute Italian boys wanting to be my boyfriend, it definitely made up in cool festivals. As if the 150th Unification Anniversary wasn’t enough, we had 3 more really awesome events that took over the city. Each of these three things were nights of free concerts, exhibits, live music, and just an all around good time. The best part about these nights, all of the Italians come out. The even better part about these nights, all of the extremely beautiful Italian MEN come out. Jackpot. My friends and I wandered around the city, enjoying all that i notti had to offer.
Ma, look! No Hands!
I’ve always said I wanted a vespa, and one of my goals for the semester was to either drive one by myself or ride on the back of one with a hot Italian guy. Regardless of what my mother and my Aunt Linda told me about never riding a vespa because they’re “dangerous,” I still just had to do it. My 3 friends and I signed up for a vespa riding tour in the Tuscan hills complete with lunch and wine tasting afterwards. I can without doubt say this was one of the top 3 best experiences of my entire life. There’s nothing like steadily climbing up a hill, speed under your control, wind blowing your hair, and seeing nothing but the beautiful green hills of the countryside in front of you. Absolutely breathtaking. However, I can’t say that I was a vespa pro at first. I was a bit nervous because if you don’t know much about me, you should know that I’m not one for rigorous physical activities or things involving speed and possible crashing/dying. Our vespa guide, Niccolo, picked us up and drove us out to the farm. To get a feel for Niccolo, think Quagmire from Family Guy mixed with Borat but the extremely happy-go-lucky version. Every other word was “Al-right!” We were just waiting until one of those “al-rights!” was followed by a “giggity giggity”. We went on the practice track to get a feel for our vespas. Not only did I accidently drive into the woman in front of me, once we started going, everyone made sure to give me a clearance space of about 30 feet in all directions. I was wobbling all over the place, crashed into a tree, nearly broke off the side view mirror, and was either going too fast or too slow. Niccolo pulled me aside for a “pep talk,” but really all I heard was blah blah blah. I knew I could do it, I just hadn’t gotten into the LJ swing of things yet. I got a little better, and he asked me if I was ready to go out on the road for the tour. I said yes. Not really sure how much I believed myself, but oh well. You gotta do what you gotta do. Once I hit the pavement, it was a piece of Italian creme cake. My friends and I were at the front the whole time full-speed enjoying every moment of it. So what if my arms were already sore after 10 minutes from holding on so tight, my palms were sweating, and I was getting a blister from trying too hard to rev the gas? I was riding a vespa in Italy, and that’s all that matters. We stopped in a small town for a cappuccino, then it was back on the road. Niccolo, who could ride a vespa in his sleep, was turned around taking a video of us riding. My friend Nicole was directly behind him, and I saw her wave to the camera. Then Lizzie was 2nd in line, and she waved to the camera as well. Well, of course I wanted to wave to the camera, too, but as I brought my hand up, mid-wave I lost my balance and almost ran off the road and DIED. I can only imagine how ridiculous my face must have looked as I saw my life flash before my eyes. But it’s cool, I pulled it together and didn’t crash or die. However, I can’t say that my cool factor didn’t crash and die that day. I hoped maybe he had stopped filming by that point, but when I asked later on he only laughed and confirmed my worst nightmare. Don’t be surprised if you see a Youtube video of “Funny Girl on Vespa” on your Facebook newsfeed or circulating through your work e-mail. Only a few more close-calls and even a couple of tricks later, the riding was over. But right before the very end, Niccolo pointed out to his left, and the view was absolutely stunning---fields and fields of red poppies completely covering the ground. That image, which lasted only a split second, will always be forever ingrained in my mind. Then we had a delicious lunch and a nice wine tasting, after which Niccolo took us back to Florence. What a satisfying and rewarding day.
“You are too cute. Isn’t she just so cute?”
One afternoon when my friends and I were hanging out in Santo Spirito, we met these two chefs who taught cooking classes every day. I had been wanting to take a cooking class at some point anyway, but the part that really sold the deal? I FINALLY MET PAULO. Okay, well his name was actually Andrea, but kid you not, I’ve met my soulmate. He might have been a little older than me, but he was Italian, cute, and knew how to cook. IT DOESN’T GET ANY BETTER THAN THIS. So we all decided to sign up for Chef Giovanni’s cooking class, accompanied by his assistant Andrea. When the day finally came, the three of us were very excited. It would’ve been nice to have a private class, but instead we got a class of 20 consisting of old touristy Americans. Oh well, I guess that only made the 3 of us look more like hot babes. Giovanni was in love with my friend Lizzie and constantly asked, “Isn’t she just so cute?” which he eventually asked others about me, too. Yeah, I’d say I’m just so cute. Why not? Well, while Lizzie wrote down the Tiramisu recipe, Nicole and I made sure to keep an eye on the guy in the kitchen we would’ve liked to get our ladyfingers on. Apparently we were doing something right because Andrea asked the three of us for our help in the kitchen. What was the impossible task he needed our help on? Toasting bread. Mmmmhmmmm ‘cause that’s such a difficult job for a professional chef, Andrea. We see what you’re up to, and I can’t say that I don’t like it. But, like any good student, we alsomade sure to pay attention to the actual cooking part of the class. All in all, we made our own bruschetta, eggplant sandwich, ragu sauce, handmade pasta, and tiramisu. Everything was absolutely delicious! Mom & Dad, if you’re nice to me when I get back I just might whip you up the same meal. Phillip and Rel, tough luck. When the class was over and the Cooking Academy certificate was in hand, we started to leave. We hoped to get asked out for that evening since we were celebrating Lizzie and Nicole’s 21st birthdays, but no. Oh well, at least things left off on a good note. Andrea-I’m comin’ back for you, so watch out.
With a lot of packing, a lot of cleaning, and a lot of goodbyes, that leads me to here. I have yet to cry because I don’t think I’ve yet grasped the situation. It seems like this is just another weekend trip and then it’s back to Via dei Cerchi to hang out with my friends in front of the Duomo. Or at the Boboli Gardens. Or Mayday. Or Santo Spirito. It’s been a whirlwind of 4 months, and I honestly can’t believe it’s over. There’s about 30 minutes between me and NYC, and I don’t know what to do with myself. So what better to do than write to y’all and reflect back on one of the most unforgettable experiences of my life. Italia and all you readers out there, you’ve been good to me. Thanks for an amazing semester. Ciao ragazzi! Baci!
